Life's Highway
by NurfHurdur
Summary: You go through life so sure of where you're heading...A look into the everyday of Radiator Springs. Series of oneshots. All humanized.
1. Hard Enough Left (excerpt)

**AN: I have always been a loving fan of Cars, especially Doc Hudson. I've kicked around ideas like this for years and at one point had a whole back story in the works. I might eventually dig it back out of the tattered notebooks I have stowed away. This is really just to test the waters.**

 **Humanized. I love the movie but can't write a vehicle. Let me know what you think!**

 **The racing world left him behind. Jesse Hudson must come to terms with the hand he's been dealt.**

* * *

He'd just dropped everything and decided to drive. Two days and three packs of cigarettes later found him at a cross roads with less than a quarter tank of gas left.

Should have stopped those two miles back, who knew when the next station would appear. He didn't feel much like walking.

He didn't have a gas can.

He was almost out of cigarettes.

He flipped the Zippo lighter closed with a metallic thunk and tossed it onto the dash along with the unlit cigarette. Sighing gustily, he shifted into reverse and did a quick three point turn to go back the way he'd come. With the evening quickly turning to night he flipped the headlights on, leaned back and drove with one hand casually draped over the wheel. Fifty-five miles per hour was nothing compared to what he used to drive.

The cobalt Hudson pulled silently into the run down gas station and he made it a point to be as inconspicuous as possible. He hated the questions, the remarks, but most of all the admiring looks. The celebrity status was no longer a welcome one.

Now he was just Jesse Hudson, regular joe from down south. The sooner fans moved on to the next up and coming name the better.

And good riddance.

Scrubbing a hand through short dark hair, he let the screen door of the gas station swing closed behind him with a bang. A full tank and five more packs of cigarettes should get him...well...somewhere.

He left the dusty, weed ridden, convenient store and soon found himself back at the crossroads he'd previously been contemplating. Jesse let the vehicle idle in neutral for the time being, looking in either direction while reaching blindly for the previously abandoned cigarette. His motions were automatic as he found the polished brass lighter again and used it. He read over the twisted and dented junction signs labeling the intersection before leaning across the passenger seat to pull out the map.

Well...he'd made it a lot further than he intended...

His eyes darted from the small print up to the road signs surrounding him and back down.

There wasn't anything back in Georgia, unless of course he wanted to always be known as The _former_ Fabulous Hudson Hornet. Last he'd heard they were already phasing out the model and revamping the vehicles to all meet specific regulations. The sport was changing. Positions being created, appointed officials were now deciding what was regulation and what was not.

That wasn't for him.

And if what he'd heard about Nash Motors buying out Hudson Motor Car Company was true, then he most certainly wanted nothing to do with the sport. His brows lowered at the thought, still studying the printed highways in front of him.

Even Joe had left. The last thing Jesse had ever expected was to return to the main offices and find Joe had signed on with another driver. _He_ was Joe's driver, _he_ had been the one to win twenty-seven of thirty-four races in '52. Not some upstart kid with bright eyes, a big hat, and smiles a mile long.

But that's what accidents did to you, that's what spending seven months in and out of the hospital did to a career.

He'd missed nearly an entire season, had stayed away from the rumors and murmurings. Jesse had ignored the growing media coverage of the nationally growing sport and had instead concentrated on himself and on his car.

That didn't matter now.

He was startled from his increasingly resentful thoughts when ash from the cigarette fell onto the map he held. Brushing it away quickly, he finished what was left and crushed the end into the ashtray. Letting the map fall to the side in a crinkled mess he went back to contemplating his decision.

The road he sat on curved to the right, signs and arrows indicating he'd eventually make it back to where he'd started out from or possibly some place up north depending on what exits he took. The left was a dusty looking, beaten up goat path of a road, but if the signs were to be believed, it somehow met up with one of the major highways leading to the west coast.

Well, he'd made it this far already.

He turned the radio on, quickly sliding the tuner with a look of near betrayal when all he heard was racing announcements. Finding a local rock and roll station he patted the dashboard of the Hudson Hornet heartily. "Well ol' boy what d'you think about goin' west?"

So with Elvis Presley's _Hound Dog_ as his accompaniment, he shifted into first, let the clutch up slowly and started down the road.

"Was always more of a dirt fan anyway."

* * *

 **AN2: When I originally posted this back in...2015? 'Joe' was originally Smokey, but after seeing Cars 3 I've come up different ideas for the character. I liked Pixar's version of Smokey better :)**


	2. Father's Day

**AN: Cars 3 is amazing. That is all.**

* * *

It was common for Radiator Springs to look deserted around midday. The scorching sun sent residents for cover usually until early evening, when the shadows would lengthen and the blacktop was no longer reflecting heat in dizzying patterns. He was glad for the almost chilly conditions in the main lobby of the Cozy Cone as he and Sally were finishing lunch, courtesy of Flo's.

"I can't believe you spent all day in that heavy jacket." Sally commented, moving her rolling chair from one end of the desk to the other. "Can't you run practice laps in a t-shirt?"

Lightning only shrugged in response. "Can't attend a race in a t-shirt. Florida is worse."

Sally watched him silently a moment as he cleared the space in front of him and crumpled up the napkin in his hand. "Guess I'm just glad your crew chief's a medical professional too."

" 's why I'm eating lunch with you." He grinned as he tossed the napkin into the far waste can. "Doc said he wanted me to take the rest of the afternoon off and make sure I ate something."

Lightning leaned back in his swivel chair and watched out the lobby windows idly. With a contented sigh, he sunk into his chair and took in the details of the buildings across the street. He would consider Fillmore's dome abandoned if he didn't know better, and he was surprised to see that there were more flowers than weeds in the yard despite the unkempt appearance.

Sarge's was what he expected an army veteran's home to look like. Perfectly manicured lawn, straight angles and lines in the flower beds with the American flag fluttering above.

The clinic, though, reminded Lightning of Doc himself, clean with a spartan exterior that only really told you what you needed to know. He was lost in his thoughts, staring through the haze at all the little cracks running through the concrete driveway when Sally spoke again.

"Stickers, did you hear me?"

"Huh- what? Sorry Sal."

"I said, he really takes care of you." She gestured across the street. "You know that, right?"

Lightning looked back out the window, finally answering in a somewhat distracted tone. "Yeah...he does, doesn't he."

His thoughts were forcefully interrupted as Sally ran her fingers through his hair.

"Ow- ow- what're you-?"

"You said you'd talk to my parents with me today. I'd like you to look somewhat decent when I start the Skype call. I wanted to surprise dad for Father's Day."

"Oh, right. I forgot that's today..."

Sally only hummed faintly in response and started up the computer.

* * *

Doc liked to sit in the old garage once the heat of the day broke. There was nothing wrong with Flo's, he enjoyed that as well but now that the garage had finally been decluttered and reorganized he'd open up the old wooden doors and kick back at the old work desk. From there he could still watch the happenings of town but still maintain a sense of solitude. The old tungsten lighting was reminiscent of evenings in Thomasville, but the restored neon outside constantly reminded him of where he really was.

With that in mind, he turned away from the garage doors in search of a pen and paper, thinking he should get around to writing that letter he'd been planning on.

Lifting old newspaper clippings and mail off the desk he muttered to himself about how he had _just_ cleared this desk off when his eyes fell on a tan envelope covering the latest article on the Rust-eze team.

 _Doc_

His brows knit together in curiosity as he reached for the envelope and flipped it over a few times in his hands. Turning in the old swivel chair he glanced up at the garage doors once and back to the desk before huffing faintly and tearing the envelope open. Not sure what to expect, he was surprised to unfold a letter.

 _Doc,_

 _I'm not any good at this kind of thing, I feel ridiculous writing this and know that I'd never be able to actually say it without feeling stupid. Sally told me I should just get over it, but I guess I'm still not very good at listening._

 _The truth is, I've never cared much for this holiday._

Doc paused and tried to find the desk calender. Holiday? What holiday?

 _I never knew my father, so there was never any reason to acknowledge it. My mom would always pack up our second hand station wagon and drive me out to the local small time track. It was a dragstrip, if it could even be considered that. They'd always hold a Father's Day car show and amateur day. Sometimes I think she just wanted to get me out and around father figures that held the same interests I did. So things like the Boy Scout soap box derbies are one of the biggest memories I have growing up._

 _I was always alone, though. I'd get paired with another father son team to be a group of three. To fit in. But it really only made the absence of my father more prevalent._

 _So then I crashed into Radiator Springs, literally. Looking back on it I'm really embarrassed over how I acted toward everyone in the town._

 _I'm sorry for how I treated you._

 _I should have never spoken to you the way I did, or given you the attitude I did._

 _In just the past few years you've taught me more than anyone ever could when it comes to racing. More than that, you've taught me more about life than anyone ever could._

Taking a deep breath Doc set the letter down a moment and reflected on late nights in the garage or sitting in the kitchen, talking till the early hours of the morning with a pot of coffee between them.

 _I guess what I'm trying to say is, now I have a reason to celebrate today._

 _Happy Father's Day_

He glanced over the nearly illegible signature and set the letter aside again. Exhaling harshly, he ran a hand through his hair and let his arm fall heavily onto the armrest of the chair. Doc would heavily deny it if anyone ever mentioned it, but he was forced to dry his eyes as he grabbed the keys from the desk and got into the '51 Hudson.

* * *

Lightning spied the Hornet pulling into Flo's, feeling like there was a rock in the pit of his stomach as he watched from his usual booth. Doc was halfway to the door when he saw Lightning in the window and motioned for him to come outside. With a sigh, the younger racer excused himself from the group and left the cafe.

He frowned as Doc got back in the car. "What're we doing?"

"Going for a drive."

"Uh-...ok..."

He watched out the passenger window in awkward silence, not exactly surprised when they finally stopped at Willy's Butte. He hesitated to follow when Doc got out of the car but finally worked up the nerve and rounded the front of the vehicle to where Doc was leaning against the hood. With the mirrored aviators, it was hard for Lightning to determine what the man was thinking.

"So-"

"I've done a lot of things in my life, Hot Rod..." Doc started slowly, his gaze still averted downward. "Held records, broken records, finally got back in touch with family back east..."

He pulled the folded letter from his shirt pocket and held it up between two fingers before looking at Lightning.

"But this...this is probably what I'm most proud of."

The tension in Lightning's shoulders vanished and he grinned fully. "Well, it's true."

He was relieved to know he hadn't made a fool of himself, but was surprised when he was suddenly in a crushing embrace. He only hesitated a moment before returning the gesture, gripping the fabric of the back of Doc's shirt with white knuckles. The loneliness of childhood dulling slowly.

"I'm honored, Kiddo. Thank you."

He took a step back and gave Lightning a hearty slap on the shoulder.

"Doesn't mean I'll go easy on you now."

Lightning grinned widely, looking out over the dirt track. "Wasn't expecting you to, Old Man."


	3. My Best Friend

**AN: Thank for all the kind words and reviews!**

 **First line is from one of those "100 writing prompts" lists.**

* * *

"Of course we're best friends. No one else would put up with our shenanigans."

"You got that right, Hot Rod." Doc eyed him with a new parental disappointment. That wasn't exactly what Lightning had in mind when he'd written that Father's Day letter a few months back but he supposed it came with the territory.

He sat patiently in the small examination room as Doc inspected his arm with gloved hands.

"How long have these cactus needles been in your arm?"

"Uh...I dunno...a few hours?"

He only received a look over silver framed glasses.

" _Why_ are there cactus needles in your arm?"

"Well Mater and I- well you know-"

"No." Doc replied. "Enlighten me."

"We were uh-...smashing mailboxes?"

Doc nearly dropped the medical tweezers and eyed his patient with indignation. "Are you _still_ antagonizing those cows?"

"No- _no_!" Lightning shook his head quickly and winced when he accidentally jerked his arm away. "I mean- _I_ wasn't in the pasture- Frank got out though-..."

"That explains the Sheriff's mood this morning."

"I...uh...slid down a bank-"

"And ended up in the tulips."

"You and I see tulips very differently- ow-"

"If you'd sit still, this wouldn't hurt as much."

"How bad is it?"

With the last of the needles removed, Doc rotated his arm gently, making sure not to touch the injury. "Well it isn't infected, but I'm putting you on an antibiotic anyway."

Once applying an antiseptic and instructing Lightning how to bandage it, and how often to change those bandages, he tossed his gloves in the trash beside the door. He lead Lightning into the next room and handed him a small prescription bottle.

"One every eight hours until they're gone."

"Thanks, Doc."

"MmHmm, and Kiddo?"

Lightning paused in the doorway and looked back at him. "Yeah?"

"Don't wait that long for something like that."

He grinned and saluted casually with his good arm before leaving. "Got it."

* * *

"Shoot, Bud. I didn't know it was that bad."

"I'm fine, Mater. Really." He extended his arm at the elbow slowly and turned it this way and that. He kept getting the bandages too tight, Doc had done a much better job than he could.

"Still. If I'd known Frank was gunna just plow through the fence this time, I woulda never gone last night."

Lightning huffed and rolled his eyes slowly. "Well I think I'm done with midnight adventures for a while."

"Aw, c'mon. I was hoping we'd go looking for the Banshee."

"No."

"Ghost Light? "

"No- you know that was a joke right?"

"What about the Jackalope?"

"No." He blinked. "Wait, the what?"

"I'm kidding." He grinned. "Doc'd kill me if you had to go back to the clinic for anything else."

Lightning huffed in agreement before falling silent. Slouched in the beaten up lawn chair, he watched down the street in lazy contentment and just enjoyed the stillness of the evening. He caught himself doing that a lot lately. A thought struck him suddenly and he looked toward his friend, watching him a moment before speaking.

"Mater, how long've you been here?"

"Oh, 'bout as long as I can remember." He replied, making designs in the dirt beneath their feet with the heels of his work boots.

Lightning hummed faintly in response before falling silent again. Mater was the exact image of who he would _not_ have spent any time with before coming to Radiator Springs. From the fishing hook on the bill of his tattered baseball cap, (when and where did he _ever_ go fishing anyway?) to the old flannel shirts, torn jeans and Red Wing work boots. Mater was loud, a little more than insane at times and overly excitable. Sometimes it surprised Lightning that he'd never run into him at a race before.

That's when it hit him. Mater was the perfect example of a Piston Cup fan. Despite his silliness, Mater was the most genuine individual he'd ever met. Under the quirks and the 'hillbilly' appearance was a heart of gold. He'd give you the shirt off his back without question. Although a little naive at times, Mater truly cared for anyone he came across. Lightning realized as he watched his friend subtly, that the kindness that Mater radiated was the kind people easily took advantage of. Lightning knew first-hand how easy it was to exploit others and the last thing he wanted was to ever see someone do such a thing to his friend. A protectiveness welled up in his chest and he looked away, back towards the town, still lost in thought.

There was an intelligence to Mater that was easily overlooked, he couldn't count the amount of times Mater had supplied an offhand comment that suddenly made things clearer to him, or how he could read the engine of any car as if it were written up in english. Lightning knew cars of course, but definitely not the way Mater did. There were times he felt dazed after listening to one of Mater and Ramone's "car convos".

He looked back toward his friend finally. "Did you ever think of leaving?"

"Leaving what- here?" Mater's brow furrowed in thought as he popped open the can of coke he'd grabbed from the cooler. "Nah, never really wanted to."

"Never? I mean, there's the whole world out there."

"Yeah, but _my_ whole world's right here. We got the beautiful country side, perfect little town." He nodded, confident in his answer. "And my family is here."

Lightning grinned, finding the answer simple, yet profound. Just like the one who'd said it. "You know, I wish more people were like you.

"Well that wouldn't be any fun."

"Why not?"

"Cause then you'd go cow tippin' with them other Maters and not me!"

Lightning couldn't help it, he chuckled slowly but failed in holding his laughter back as it fought it's way up from his chest. Before too long, his cheeks and his stomach began to ache as he tried to get control of himself. With his good hand covering his eyes, he regained his breath and spoke through the last of his laughter.

"I can't imagine cow tipping with anyone else Mater, I think you're safe."

He couldn't help but be amused in how Mater seemed to puff up at that.

"How long've you been doing that anyway."

Mater grinned, leaning over as if to share some big secret.

"Since I was a kid. Ol' Doc told me about it long time ago. Don't tell the Sheriff, though."

"Oohhh." Lightning shook his head, grinning widely. "It's not Sheriff I'll be talking to."


	4. Family

**AN: Cars 3 spoilers? Kind of but not really? I promise other characters are coming eventually.**

 **This was rough, not going to lie.**

* * *

Lightning sat on the steps that lead from Doc's garage up into the house. Eye level with the Hudson emblem on the grill of the '51 Hornet, he stared, silent and red eyed at the cobalt vehicle before him. Sunlight filtered in from the partially opened garage doors, backlighting the classic car in gold and glinting off every angle and curve. The chrome was immaculate, the whitewalls pristine. Doc had loved that car.

Lightning wanted to be sick.

Why. Why couldn't he have come to Radiator Springs sooner. Why couldn't Doc have stayed in the racing world so they could have crossed paths earlier.

The Piston Cup Hall of Fame had asked if there was anything Lightning would like to contribute. He'd forced himself, with the help of everyone, to go through some of Doc's old personal racing effects to be donated to the museum in North Carolina.

They'd asked specifically for the Hudson Hornet.

 _Over my dead body_. Lightning thought spitefully. He sniffed faintly in a pitiful attempt to keep another bout of tears at bay.

How dare they.

He wasn't about to let this car sit and rust in some museum while people oohed and awwed over it and spoke about Doc as if they _knew_ him.

He reached out and traced over the shieldlike emblem with his fingers, a knot forming in his throat as he did. Lightning's voice was a hoarse whisper.

"I miss you, Dad."

A long shadow moved on the floor and Lightning glanced around the end of the car, half expecting Doc to be walking into the garage to chastise him for his behavior.

But that wasn't possible.

He was startled by who he did see, though.

"Smokey?"

"Hey, kid."

Lightning mentally cursed himself, looking like a child crying on the steps. He hastily dried his eyes, trying to be subtle as he stood to shake the older man's hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to check up on you." He gestured over his shoulder, and Lightning wasn't sure if he was comforted or irritated that it reminded him of Doc.

"Sheriff gave me a call." He paused, sighing. "I heard about them asking for some of Hud's stuff."

"They're not getting this car."

Smokey held a hand up in appeasement. "I agree with you..."

He looked over the Hornet, and Lightning couldn't begin to imagine the thoughts running through the old crew chief's head. How many hours had he spent on that car, fine tuning the engine and making sure it was in peak condition? How long had he spent hammering out the damage to the frame and cleaning sand out of the filters and intakes?

"He really loved this car." Smokey finally spoke.

"Is this the one that-"

" '54? Yeah. I kept telling him we could see about a new one after the accident, but he'd refused."

"How long did it take?"

Smokey stared at the car, shaking his head. "Months. I did what I could when Jesse was still recuperating." He frowned. "But I'd been forced to go back to work with my garage since he wasn't racing."

"You weren't always involved with the Piston Cup?" Lightning studied him, almost looking for similarities now. Small gestures, even the cadence of his speech seemed reminiscent of Doc. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

"No." He shook his head again. "I'd left home and started a garage by the time I was 18. In '50 Jesse asked if I wanted a steady job with this new sport he was getting involved in."

"He was that confident?"

Smokey grinned ruefully. "No. I knew Jesse well enough to know when he was putting up a front. He was good, don't get me wrong, but he was totally alone and in need of a team."

Lightning fell silent, thinking over what he'd just learned as they stood in front of the Hudson. His brow furrowed.

"Why do you call him Hud?"

Smokey seemed to snap out of his own thoughts then. "Drivers on the track started calling him Hud and I guess I picked it up. He tolerated it but I'm not sure he ever really cared for it."

"But you called him that anyway?"

"He was fun to antagonize." He smirked.

Lightning grinned faintly, if a little wistfully. "Yeah."

A strained and somewhat painful silence fell over them. Lightning had so many questions but didn't know where to start. There were so many things he'd wanted to know about Doc but had never gotten around to asking. Now it was too late. The next best thing was second hand stories and different opinions than what Doc might have given him. He frowned at that, glaring once more at the car in front of him as if _it_ could give him the answers he was looking for. If engines could talk.

A question he'd thought of many times sprang to mind, he figured Smokey would know.

"Was he related to the Hudson Motor family?"

He was surprised at the bark of laughter he received in response.

"Jesse was certainly _not_ related to the Hudson Motor Company. That was some coincidence, though." Smokey leaned one hand against the Hornet. "He'd signed up to his very first race out of desperation. Kid was flat broke and the purse was $500."

"What?"

"Yeah." Smokey nodded with a fond smile. "He borrowed my car and smoked the field. After that he took a trip to Michigan and pitched a deal to the Hudson Motor Car Company and was granted a car. For free, mind you, as long as he could prove he could win with it."

Lightning stared, that seemed too...Hollywood.

Smokey could tell he thought as much. "All true. They used his success on the track to sell a hell of a lot of cars."

They fell silent once more and Lightning felt a sense of unease he couldn't quite place. "You seem to know him pretty well, even aside from racing."

"Well I'd hope so."

Lightning's brow furrowed again and it took a moment for Smokey to interpret his expression. He huffed in realization.

"Hell, son. He was my kid brother."

It seemed to take a moment to sink in, but when it did, Lightning's face paled and his eyes welled up against his will. He threw his arms around the other.

"Woah- easy-..." Smokey muttered, at a loss. He hugged the boy (because that's what he was, a boy) tightly. "I know..."

"I just miss him so much."

With a heavy hearted sigh, Smokey stepped back. "I know, kid. Believe me, I know."

Lightning looked away and took in a shuddering breath as he regained his composure. He felt absolutely ridiculous, he barely knew this man.

But he was Doc's brother.

"So, you called him Hud just to irritate him?"

"Same way he refused to call me Smokey."

Lightning grinned hesitantly. "I'm sorry, what is-?"

"Henry. Henry Hudson." He clapped Lightning on the shoulder. "We gotta lot to catch up on."


	5. Festival

**AN: I've been asked a few times if there would be any more chapters with Doc alive. These oneshots aren't necessarily in chronological order, it just so happened that the first 4 chapters were :) No worries, there's more Doc!**

* * *

"Tell me again why we're walking?"

"I thought we could use the exercise." Sally replied cheerfully, one arm linked through Lightning's as she waved to Mater.

Lightning watched his friend pass them on the old International Harvester, pulling a trailer filled with eager Piston Cup fans behind. He wasn't able to come up with a response before Sally continued. "Besides, I wanted at least a little time with you before we get stopped every 10 seconds for a picture."

With the opening of Lightning McQueen's racing headquarters and the nearly finished racing museum, Sally had coordinated the very first Radiator Springs Piston Cup Festival. The three day event would lead up to the official opening of the museum and bring attention to the town.

The Wheel Well was fully booked, as was The Cozy Cone, and Sally couldn't be happier.

The papers were already comparing the numbers of attendance to those of the state fairs, and the event had only just opened.

Walking over the crest that lead to Willy's Butte, Lightning whistled appreciatively. "Wow, Sal...you've really outdone yourself."

Both straightaways on the oval track were filled with vendors, while the infield had a rest area and a medical tent should anyone need serious attention.

"It's taken a lot of work."

"I can see why."

Vendors for nearly every driver were present, Dinoco of course being the largest, but even the smallest of sponsors were set up to sell shirts, hats, blankets, and anything that could have a driver's face or number on it. Mack had even taken the liberty of opening the #95 transport truck up to the public, children raced up and down the ramp while their parents tried to get them to move down to the next vendor.

Mater passed the couple again, this time on his way back toward town. He'd volunteered to provide shuttle services back and forth from the event, and from the look of things, the tourists were loving it.

What Lightning enjoyed the most though, was knowing that everyone from town had their own spaces set up as well. As they walked down the bank he could already see the tent Sheriff had organized with the help of the county. He still had to get used to the idea of Radiator Springs having a real police force. _Meet the Troops_ was a program where children and parents alike were given a mock training test, could see what cadet school was like and if able to pass a small agility course, they could receive a 'badge'. Lightning wanted to try it before the festival ended.

Sarge had a tent only a few spaces down, filled of course with surplus, but also with historical artifacts from nearly every American war. Lightning could see a number of older gentleman gathered in front of his tent, he and Sally both agreed they'd have to stop by after it had cleared out a little.

"You know I've never been to anything like this?" She said as they browsed through a tent selling vintage records.

"A record store?"

"No, silly. A proper fair."

His brow furrowed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "Never really had the time when I was growing up."

"Oh." He shook his head, "Then we gotta get you the worst fair food ever."

"Worst? Why would I-?"

"Worst as in best! Trust me!" He grabbed her hand and marched back out on to the track to look for the nearest food vendor.

A slice of pizza, bag of kettle corn and one shared banana split later, they continued on their trek down the row of tents. Sally flicked him with the plastic spoon before throwing it away as they passed a trash can.

"You're right, it's the best worst food ever."

They passed Fillmore's tent, beside the organic foods there were tie-dye shirts, wind chimes, and old band posters from the '60's. Lightning wasn't that surprised to see how busy he was.

Flo of course was being nearly run ragged, they'd run out of many of their menu items so she'd sent Ramone back to the café for supplies. Luigi and Guido had opted out of setting up a tent and were instead helping Flo keep the constant stream of customers happy. Lizzie had set up right beside Flo's concession stand, and while she ended up sleeping most of the afternoon, Red took care of whatever sales she made.

Near the bend of the track, a large group of people were taking pictures with different drivers in attendance, stock cars were lined up with their respective sponsors behind them selling more Piston Cup licensed gear.

Lightning paused mid stride. "Why does that car have a face?"

Sally turned away from the Rust-eze baseball cap she was considering and looked in the direction he'd indicated. Not far ahead of them, a boy no older than 8 was carrying a bright red Rust-eze car plush, but it was smiling.

"Aw, Stickers, it's you!"

She immediately turned back toward the Rust-eze tent.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting a Lightning McQueen car, what do you think I'm doing?"

"What? No. I don't want a car staring at me all the time!"

It was too late, she was already walking back with one. With a smirk, she held it in front of her face, looking up at him with raised brows. "Who says it'd be staring at you?"

With an exaggerated sigh, he relented and they continued down the line of cars. He'd point out specific details on each and while Sally wasn't sure what it all meant, she enjoyed just listening to him speak so passionately about them as she hugged her new stuffed toy.

They finally came up toward the end of the stock cars where they were beginning to transition into classics. The number of people taking pictures was steadily increasing as well.

"Alright, Stickers. This one seems important if all these people are anything to go by. Tell me something about this one." She said, only partially teasing.

Lightning stared at the Hudson Hornet briefly and looked back at her. "Where do I even start?"

"Telling me where the driver is might be a nice start."

"He didn't want to come..."

Lightning had been floored, giddy as a kid on Christmas, when Doc had held out the keys. "You're letting me drive it?"

Doc had pulled the keys back faster than Lightning could say _kachow_ , eyeing him sternly. "To the Butte, where it stays parked until you bring it back."

"I'm not taking it for a joy ride or anything, Doc-"

"If there's anything more than dirt on it, you won't race for the next three weeks."

"What? That's not-!"

" _Three weeks._ "

He'd huffed but relented. "Ok..."

"And keep the keys with you. "

Lightning checked his pocket again just to be sure and looked back at Sally with a shrug.

She was still hugging the car plush to herself, but Lightning could tell she was thinking up something.

* * *

He'd wanted to add another _Do Not Enter_ sign to the garage doors just for this weekend but had never really gotten around to it. Without looking up from the paper he was reading, he spoke aloud. "You know as a member of law enforcement, no trespassing signs should mean more."

"I got tired of answering questions about you." Sheriff replied.

"Me?"

"You."

Doc was silent a moment before his eyes narrowed and he set the paper down. "No, I'm not getting back into that circus."

"I think the race in California made that decision for you."

Doc had agreed to be Lightning's crew chief, that didn't mean he wanted shoved back into the spotlight. He'd had his time in racing. All those fans recognized the car but he doubted they knew him, so he had decided they didnt need to. He wasn't going to go crawling back to the sport that had kicked him so soundly in the teeth.

"The kid's got the car down there, that should be enough for people." He hadn't even wanted the Hudson to leave the garage, he hadn't even liked the idea of this festival. Did they know how much raking and ground work that track would need after this weekend?

"It's not just tourists that want you down there."

Doc eyed him silently.

"Every Piston Cup driver has asked about you."

He wasn't able to voice his smart remark, Sheriff didn't allow him.

" _We_ would like to see you down there."

His request was met with silence, but the look he received told him he'd won.

With a sigh, Doc rolled the chair away from the desk. "An hour, that's it."

Sheriff only nodded once, and Doc was forced to stop short when he held out what he'd carried in with him. "Kid said you'd need these."

He held out the mirrored aviator sunglasses and a navy blue baseball cap. While it still sported the Rust-eze logo, it was done in the colors of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet.

Doc sighed as he took his own belongings. "Shouldn't have left the keys with him."

* * *

Three hours later, after making it all the way around the track and through all the vendors. Lightning and Sally had actually been able to visit with everyone they'd missed the first time through. Hoping to maybe say goodbye to some of his fellow racers, Lightning had started back to the stock cars.

"Hey, Lightning! I was wondering where you were."

"Right here." He smirked. "Where've you been, Jr?"

"Listening to your crew chief." He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

Sally nearly punched her boyfriend in the arm, smiling widely. "I _told_ you."

Lightning looked past his fellow racer to see a group of people surrounding the '51 Hudson, and there stood Doc. From the looks of things, people were standing by taking pictures and listening intently while he swapped stories with none other than Strip Weathers. The Fabulous Hudson Hornet and The King. It was an amazing photo opportunity if he'd ever seen one.

A few of the more daring members of the crowd would pose a question, or ask for a picture and Lightning couldn't help but smile along with the racing legends, even from the distance he was at. He watched as Doc knelt between two young boys for a picture, both wearing Rust-eze hats that didn't fit, with ears that were too big and teeth that were missing, but their smiles were infectious. He turned to Sally, still holding her ridiculous car.

"I think we need to do this every year."


	6. Memorial Race

**AN: I stewed on this one for nearly a week, finished it this morning and then lost nearly 800 words and had to rewrite the ending because my tablet decided to lose it's internet connection...**

 **Drew a lot of inspiration for this one from the song "Still I Fly" from Planes: Fire and Rescue. So if you want your heart ripped out, go listen to that and read this.**

* * *

He had been glad for the rain delay.

Sitting up in the pit box was the safest place at the moment, even when the army of cameras and press down below could still get a shot of him if they really tried for one.

That was what sunglasses were for.

He'd decided to wear Doc's for the occasion.

Lightning had spent weeks battling his own emotions over whether or not to drive today. On one hand he was disgusted with the fact that _someone_ had thought it would be a good idea to use Doc's name for the last race of the season, on the other hand, he didn't want anyone else to walk away with the title.

So as the opening remarks were made, he'd stood stoically with Sally beside him, comforted in the simple gesture she made of linking her arms around his. He wasn't even sure what had set him off, he'd been fine the last few days leading up to that morning. Maybe it was the fact that Sarge, along with some of his old platoon were the color guard for the occasion, maybe it was that they were going to allow Luigi to drop the flag from the crow's nest. Maybe it was the opening prayer, or that country singer who had sung the national anthem right before the rain started.

Whatever it was, the rain gave him a chance to get his emotions under control.

He shifted in the seat that Doc should have been occupying, rolling his shoulders and glancing down at the changed color scheme of his suit. For The Fabulous Hudson Hornet Piston Cup Memorial Race (that was a mouthful), he'd opted for the navy blue over his usual red. 51 took up most of the back where sponsor patches were normally sewn on, and his own usual 95 had even taken a backseat as a small patch on his left shoulder.

"Hey, Stickers."

He leaned to the side to see over the edge of the pit box and smiled vaguely when Sally held up a Gatorade for him to take. Passing it up to him, she reached back into the cooler for a water and held that out as well. That morning as she'd been filling it, she'd asked him to _please take care of himself_ , as she'd poured ice over the pack of Gatorade's to only watch him doggedly follow her with bottled waters.

He'd commented roughly. "Can't have just Gatorade, there's so much sugar and electrolytes in those things. Doc always said to chase one down with a water...to even things out..."

"You ok?" She asked once a camera had passed out of earshot.

He was silent a moment. Not wanting to lie to her, he truly contemplated his response. "Yeah...I'm ok."

Sally eyed him quietly for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

"Love you." He grinned tiredly, more appreciative of her understanding than she knew.

"Love you, too."

The race was being broadcast on every sports network. ESPN, ESPN2, FOXSports, TheRacingNetwork, RacingSportsNetwork, and even some generic cable stations had cut their usual programming for today. Lightning could hear Cutlass and Cartrip on the radio beside him, filling up the time that the rain delay had caused.

"You know McQueen almost didn't race today, and having only qualified for the 17th position, it's not going to be an easy one for him."

"I don't think anyone would've blamed him if he hadn't raced, Darrell."

A voice over from an interview earlier that weekend was played, and Lightning listened to his own voice, surprised at how steady he sounded.

"Of course it'll be hard, but at the end of the day it's a race. If I don't even make it into the top 10 I'll still have at least been out there."

"Do you think you're fellow drivers will take it easy on you, given the circumstances?" The reporter had asked.

He remembers his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, offended by the question. "I don't expect them to, nor would I want them to."

Cartrip cut back in, the voice clip over. "The kid's definitely a class act, I know I'll be pulling for him today."

He looked out over the covered stock cars, realizing that the rain was slowly letting up as they took the Air Titans out onto the track. Climbing down from the pit box he flexed his arms and stiff joints, somewhat irritated but at the same time relieved that everyone seemed to be giving him a wide berth.

Standing silently in the #95 pit space, he watched the dryers move around the track with his arms crossed. He bit his lower lip, it wouldn't be long before they would call the drivers out to uncover the cars.

He felt the presence of another beside him and glanced to his right subtly, he and Doc used to size up the field before a race. Whether it was Bristol or Dover, there was always something they'd go over before he got into his car. Lightning felt his jaw tense, wanting to tell whoever it was that they should leave, they weren't welcome at the moment or that they needed to go hound someone else for a comment.

They never spoke, and Lightning was suddenly at ease with the silent comaraderie that took over as they watched the rain start again and then ease off in a pattern that kept the dryers at work.

He finally did look to see who was standing beside him and felt his chest constrict with a sudden melancholy he'd been holding at bay.

Jr stood beside him, his own arms crossed as he watched through the gloom of the afternoon.

 _Piston Cup's Orphans_ he'd heard someone call them recently.

Lightning opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated and decided against it. He looked back out to the track and sighed quietly.

They stood like that for nearly half an hour.

Jr finally stepped away, giving Lightning an encouraging thump on the back as he left to his own pit area. The trucks had returned to the garages and the track was dry.

Ramone helped him take the rain cover off his car. Lightning thanked him and then commented as they stood together looking it over. "Thanks for redoing the paint job. It turned out great."

"Hey, my pleasure man." He spoke around the cigarette Lightning was fairly sure wasn't permitted in the pits. "I loved doing touch ups on Doc's and it's only fitting for today, you know?"

He only nodded in agreement, unable to look away from the tribute paint job on his usual "Rust-eze Red" stock car. The blue metal flake sparkled and the white lettering stood out in sharp contrast.

With a sigh, he glanced toward the front of the field and felt his breath catch in his throat. As all the cars were being uncovered and revealed, Lightning noticed that every single one had been repainted in vintage '50's colors. There was an uproar in the stands, and he could tell the fans had realized it too. He turned to look at the cars behind his position and noticed Bobby coming toward him.

"Don't look at me. It was Cal's idea."

The Dinoco car beside him was still the trademark baby blue, but instead of a bright white 42, the colors were toned down, nearly cream. Cal grinned widely, "Maybe, but I just mentioned it in passing to Uncle Strip, who then said something to Mr. Dinoco and you know how much pull he has around here."

"Yes, he does..." Lightning agreed, secretly pleased that not a single car aside from his own sported a navy blue and white color scheme.

The three all shook hands, parting ways to return to their cars. Before the final call was made for everyone to clear Pit Row, Sally ran to the window of his car.

"Stickers-"

"Yeah, Sal?"

"Just...be careful, ok? Stay focused."

"Of course." He flashed her a grin, feeling more himself now that he was in the driver's seat.

"Love you." She wanted to give him a kiss, but now that his helmet was on, it was near impossible.

"Love you, more."

She smiled thinly and hit the side of his car twice before backing away from it.

The man who'd performed the national anthem was also the lucky individual to announce the start of the race. Leaning over the mic, he looked down the stretch of stock cars. "Drivers! Start your engines!"

Lightning knew the crowd was going crazy and the familiar rush of adrenaline was welcome after the numbness he'd felt all morning. He wove back and forth with the rest of them to warm his tires and watched the crow's nest, grinning to himself when he saw Luigi with the flag. As the green dropped, he heard Doc's instructions as clear as if they'd been spoken through the headset.

 _Drive it in deep and hope it sticks_.

"You got it."

* * *

His fellow drivers were decidedly _not_ going easy on him today. Every opening he found was quickly closed off. 200 laps in to the 500 lap race and he'd only moved up 5 positions.

He sighed as they came around turn three, debating with himself if it would really be that bad if he didn't win today.

 _It's just an empty cup._

"This one _isn't_." He growled to no one.

He began to wonder if some of the drivers in front were purposely holding him back, because there wasn't much jockeying for position ahead of him either. His jaw set and he dismissed the idea, while he didn't get along with _everyone_ , he couldn't see any of them being that vindictive.

Except for maybe Hicks, but he was back in 21st after a brush with the wall.

He finally saw an opening start to clear and felt a bump from behind, looking up to see Jr's red #8 in the rear view mirror.

"I see it, I see it. I'm going."

Lightning grinned at the encouragement and couldn't help but notice Jr had drafted up right behind him as they took the next three positions. Being in the top 10 made him much more comfortable.

Two cautions within the next 50 laps had frazzled his nerves, along with the reappearance of Hicks. Drivers were beginning to give him a decent size buffer and Lightning was reminded of a comment Doc had made after the Pocono 500 years ago.

 _He belongs on a demo track, not in Piston Cup._

"You got that right, Doc..." Lightning muttered, as he watched Hicks crowding Cal on the inside turn.

50 laps left and he was holding steady in 4th, finally in the front of the pack he just waited for his opportunity to drop down to the inside lane. His biggest fear was to stay on the outside and drop back at the last moment, with no hope to regain the ground he would lose if that happened. Jr had stayed on him the entire race, and he was starting to believe it was so he couldn't fade right at the end.

Coming around turn two he saw his opening, dropping down quickly he floored it through the straight away and allowed his momentum to carry him through the next turn, taking the lead on the inside. A quick glance confirmed Jr had stayed with him and he was glad for that, he hoped his friend would take 2nd today.

But 1st would be his.

The white flag was waved as he drove under the crow's nest and he felt a rush of adrenaline. Last lap, he had a decent lead but anything could happen, blown tires, a lap car could come up onto the track last second.

 _One turn at a time._

On turn three he chanced a look into the mirror again before nearly standing on the gas and coming down the straight away. He didn't breath again until he'd passed under the checkered flag, looking over to see #8 coming up alongside him. He held one hand up in acknowledgement as they bumped sides down the straightaway before Jr dropped back to allow him his victory lap.

* * *

"Lightning, how does a win today feel?"

He'd barely climbed out of the car before he'd been surrounded in the winner's circle, but instead of answering he'd immediately sought out Sally, He wrapped her in a hug and they stood like that for some time. Ramone and Sheriff were able to keep the cameras back but once it aired on national television, it was obvious that they were speaking to each other.

She'd never seen him smile so brightly.

Grabbing a water, and wiping the sweat from his brow before returning his baseball cap, Lightning finally addressed the reporters. "Better than any championship, Kori."

He had to lean forward to hear her over the deafening cheers. "It looks like the team is pleased with the outcome today."

"We worked really hard." He nodded, not looking specifically into any camera. He was forced to duck when Mater brought the Pepsi out. "This race meant a lot to us."

"The rain delay really set the start time back, did the transition into a night race trip you up at all?"

Lightning straightened and looked about in surprise, in all the celebrating and his focus on the track, he hadn't even noticed the floodlights now in the winner's circle. His grin widened, if it were possible. "I've trained in just about every condition."

Any more questions Kori may have had were cut off as other drivers stepped into the shot to offer congratulations.

Lightning made his rounds thanking the team and offering hugs to anyone from, what the racing world called, _The Radiator Springs Team_.

He stood hand in hand with Sally in front of the car, members of the crew on either side as Cal, Bobby and Jr presented the season's Piston Cup. Sally squeezed his hand, and though he knew it would be on national television, Lightning couldn't help it when his eyes welled up at the sight of the changes they'd made to the trophy. He smiled tightly.

Cal stepped forward, holding a microphone, but thought better of it upon seeing his uncle and handed the mic over.

Strip Weathers addressed the Rust-eze team, as well as the crowd. "Well, I think it's safe to say the most deserving team took the prize today. You all held a special place in Hud's heart and worked your tails off for this." He gestured to the cup and Sally moved imperceptibly closer to Lightning. "On behalf of the officials and administration of the racing league, as of today, this circuit will be known as The Hudson Hornet Piston Cup Series."

Through the deafening cheers, he shook Lightning's hand and leaned closer. "You did him proud, kid."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

He stood in front of the display case in Radiator Springs, holding the trophy protectively as Mater unlocked the glass door.

"That's the best one yet, Bud."

"You're telling me."

He still couldn't believe the effort they'd put into the changes as he admired the Hornet coming up over the top, from the stamped rims on the dirt track tires to the embossed lettering of the side panels.

Lightning turned to look over his shoulder when he heard the door open and saw Sally enter the room, propping her sunglasses on the top of her head.

"Don't forget our dinner reservations."

"Of course not, we're just putting this away."

She kissed his cheek before turning to leave. "Race you."

"That's not fair, you're leaving now!"

She only raised her arms in a gesture of _oh well_ , still walking away. "Says the nation's leading Piston Champion."

He only shook his head affectionately and turned back to Mater once she'd left. "You go on ahead, Mater. I got this."

"You sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure."

Mater shrugged, handing him the keys. "Ok..."

The tow truck driver started shutting lights off as he left and soon Lightning was standing alone in the dark. The only light coming from the display case and the large entry doors. He situated the trophy on the top shelf, making sure it was centered and in no danger of falling off the glass display piece. Pulling a letter out of his back pocket, he folded it in half and stood on his toes to drop it into the piston shaped dish. He stepped back to admire it once more, making sure the paper couldn't be seen from anywhere at ground level. Closing up the glass door, he swung the maintenance keys on his finger as he turned to leave the building.

"It's not just an empty cup."


	7. Good Times

**AN: I've been informed I need a happy chapter. (I need a break from the depressing ones anyway) Enjoy!**

* * *

"What in Sam Hill is going on?"

"Ah-..." He gestured helplessly, looking back toward the Sheriff of Radiator Springs. "Beats me, Michael."

Sheriff Michael Carwood stared out over the bluff down toward the dirt track and watched as Doc left the side of his cruiser to meet the group of people gathered under the shade of the Butte. He wasn't sure which was worse, a bunch of hot rodders tearing up his town, the fact that they seemed to be coercing the town's people into their shenanigans-

-or that Doc Hudson had actually been speechless, yet unfazed.

Lightning had invited a number of his friends from the racing series out for a weekend in Radiator Springs. Sheriff was afraid he had a long weekend ahead of him. It was only Friday night and he'd been convinced there'd be street races at all hours of the night. Doc had told him that carousing would be kept to a minimum, which he was sure had lead to a few stern words with the hot shot.

With a sigh, he started the Mercury Cruiser and turned back toward town. "I really gotta think about retiring..."

Seeing his mentor coming down the beaten path, Lightning jumped up from his camping chair and jogged to meet him halfway.

"Sheriff's gunna have a coronary if you and the hooligans don't keep it toned down this weekend."

He reached out and took the baseball cap off the kid's head, turning it around and putting it on the right way. "And hats have bills for a reason."

"Aw- C'mon, Doc. We're not _that_ bad." Lightning replied, walking alongside him and ignoring his second comment.

"Never said you were. I just don't want to be the one stuck resuscitating him."

Lightning huffed in amusement and grinned fully as he continued.

"I took the weekend off for a reason."

Coolers and tables filled with food were kept in the shadiest areas, someone's truck, Bobby's, Lightning was fairly sure, had a door open with satellite radio playing while everyone sat in a large circle. He smirked as the visiting group grew quiet on Doc's approach, unsure if they'd have to watch their speech or if they were expected to pay proper respects or...something.

Mater started up the conversation again, leaning forward. "What were you saying about using a tow rope?"

Jr blinked a few times, as if he'd forgotten what the conversation had been. "Oh- you don't have to use a tow rope, you can use anything sturdy enough."

"For what?" Sally questioned, leaning against Lightning.

"We have this thing we do at home, like water skiing but on dirt."

"You use cardboard-" Bobby added. "I was at your last one."

"Yeah." Jr continued. "Anyway- well we stopped using cardboard because my cousin grew out of her Barbie car. We tie that to the back of the truck now."

""The Cardboard Rodeo." Lightning grinned, "I'd heard about you guys doing that.

"Just so happens-" Bobby stretched and pointed exaggeratedely over his shoulder. "We gotta pretty nice track here...and Cal...has supplied the car."

"It was my little sister's-" Cal added quickly.

Lightning sat up in interest, grinning widely and looked directly at Doc.

"Don't look at me, Hot Rod. I took off remember, you'll have to have someone else setting broken bones this weekend."

* * *

He wasn't riding on the Barbie Jeep, but somehow he was driving the truck.

Mater checked the knots for a third time and waved a hand for him to see in the side mirror. Sally stood beside the driver's side door.

"Please don't kill my boyfriend, Doc."

"Better killing him than one of the others."

"Doc!"

"What?" Lightning called from his awkward position on the child's toy. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothin'." Doc replied.

"What?"

"Hold on."

Lightning had barely gotten both hands on the pink steering wheel before the truck took off. He threw one hand up to hold his hat on while the others were left at the starting line in a cloud of dust, hands on their knees as they laughed, barely able to catch their breath.

Sally's heart was in her throat, if he wasn't in danger on the track he was in danger doing ridiculous stunts like this. A few times she saw the jeep nearly tip over and held her hand over her heart. Coming back to the starting line, the jeep actually did tip and Lightning went rolling. With a shout of surprise she ran toward him, but as the dust settled she saw him lying on his back with both arms in the air whooping excitedly.

Apparently to Piston drivers, even their wrecks were exciting.

She stood over him and he squinted up at her, grinning widely. "Hey, Sal."

She only rolled her eyes and held her hand out to help him up.

Everyone needed a turn after that, well except Sally, who was adamant in telling everyone they were absolutely nuts.

As the work day drew to a close, their group steadily increased in size. Doc had given up his role as driver to Ramone, who was driving anyone around the track that hadn't gotten a turn yet.

Mater and Red unloaded wood from the back of Red's truck and Sally helped Flo bring more food to the tables.

Finally, as the sun was setting, a fire was started and they abandoned their horseplay. As much as Sally complained about her reckless boyfriend, she couldn't turn down his offer to make her smores.

Headlights on the bluff caught everyone's attention.

"Aww man. It's the popo." Cal commented sarcastically.

"Better hide that moonshine, Bobby." Jr added dryly.

Lightning was surprised to hear a bark of laughter from Doc at that one and looked at him questioningly. He only shook his head slightly in response, still smiling while watching the fire.

Lightning looked up to the cruiser again, holding the marshmallow stick over the fire. "Well someone gunna tell him to come down here?"

Flo huffed, gesturing with her drink. "The Sheriff is a grown man, honey."

The headlights went dark and he could just make out the figure of the man coming toward the Butte.

"Besides," Flo added, "I told him he'd know where to find us."

* * *

 **AN2: I'm one of those dorks that laughs at their own jokes, every time I read Cal's popo comment I lose it. It's kind of an inside joke lol**


	8. Walk In The Woods

**AN: I...don't have twitter? So not sure that reads ok, plus FanFiction doesn't allow the 'at' symbol?**

 **This takes place the day after 'Good Times'**

* * *

There was a line of people waiting in the lobby of The Wheel Well. The patrons were incredibly understanding as Sally stood behind the counter and apologized in a professional tone once again. Apparently the computer systems had gone down, and all online reservations were being painstakingly figured out on paper.

One woman sitting closer to the main entrance was more interested in the back of the black t-shirt of the young man staring out the windows. She read over the back inconspicuously as he took in the breathtaking landscapes of the valley below them.

A large number 7 was superimposed over what looked like the Army Airborne jump wings insignia. A Wings Around the Globe Rally banner was printed above a list of the stops made during the race.

Radiator Springs was pulling in all the racing world celebrities.

"Ok, I think we're finally getting somewhere." Sally commented to herself, using her phone to get into the administrative profile of the hotel websites.

"Um...Jetstream?" She asked with a raised brow. "Is there a-"

The woman who'd been reading the shirt jumped when he spun around and nearly ran to the counter with an exclamation of surprise.

"No! Uh- no. It's...Crophopper actually?" He scratched the side of his head with a grin. "Old inside joke and you know since they were online reservations I-" He spoke so quickly Sally almost wasn't able to keep up with him.

He drummed the counter top with his fingers. "Yeah, it's not really that important I guess- anyway it's Crophopper."

"Crophopper."

"Yup. Dusty Crophopper."

"Hey look, it's Flyboy."

Everyone in the lobby turned to see the group that had just entered through the main doors. Bobby leading while Lightning brought up the rear.

Phones were taken out of pockets as posts were made to facebook, twitter and any media platform possible.

 _Dusty Crophopper in Radiator Springs? **#bestvacayever**_

Younger fans attempted to take photos of the group at the counter without being seen, but failed miserably when Lightning noticed.

 _Selfie with Lightning and Cal? **#ICanDieHappy #lightningmcqueen #calweathers #pistoncup**_

 _LightningMcQueenOfficial: pistonfan22 All you have to do is ask! **#wedontbite**_

 _HudsonHornetFan: LightningMcQueenOfficial Can you convince Mr. Hudson to get a twitter?_

 _LightningMcQueenOfficial: HudsonHornetFan Working on it! **#DidYouJustCallHim #MrHudson #ILOVEIT**_

"McQueen, get off your phone." Cal complained.

Jr reached over and snatched it from his hands. "Aw- it's password protected."

Lightning grabbed it back. "Yeah- so you guys can't ruin my image!"

Sally cleared her throat roughly, gaining Lightning's attention before she cast a meaningful look toward Dusty.

"Sorry. You were checking in weren't you?" He asked sheepishly.

Dusty grinned and attempted to cut his attention between the two conversations, answering Sally's questions while keeping up with the Piston racers behind him.

He confirmed the type of room he'd reserved before turning and answering a question from Jr. Looking back at Sally again he stalled, "Uh-...yeah, no smoking-...that is what you asked right?"

"Yes." She smirked, checking out the form.

"-And then we can take him to the Butte."

Dusty's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, the _what_?"

Sally tilted her head with a pointed look at the boys.

"C'mooooon, Crophopper. We haven't got all day." Bobby whined.

"Will you just give me a minute?"

"We don't _have_ a minute."

With an exaggerated sigh, Dusty pulled his license out of his wallet and handed it to Sally as the others were threatening to leave without him. He leaned over the counter as he slid the identification card across. "I'm really sorry you deal with that all the time."

Sally grinned. "You get used to it."

* * *

They showed him all of Radiator Springs, piled in the bed of Bobby's pick-up, which of course got them a warning from Sheriff.

Which of course they ignored.

"The judge is basically McQueen's dad." Was the explanation Dusty got. "I don't think riding in the back is going to land us in hot water."

"We should take him to the Butte."

"No, the falls."

"We were just past the falls-"

"Do you guys live here, or do I?!"

"I'm sorry, but again... _what is a butte_?"

"Butte it is then." Lightning decided, hitting the roof of the truck to get Bobby's attention.

Coming over the ridge, Dusty took in the dirt track and monolithic rock formation as the truck rolled to a stop. Jumping over the side of the bed, he felt a jolt travel up his ankles as his feet landed firmly on the ground.

"That is a Butte." Lightning said proudly, crossing his arms.

Dusty could certainly appreciate it, maybe not the same way they did but he understood the connection. Even aside from the racing aspect, the landscape surrounding the track was incredible. He had to throw in some levity, though. "Huh...is it usually that messy?"

"Uh- no...no it's not." Lightning cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. Evidence from the gathering the day before was still scattered through the infield. Lightning started down the bank.

"That's something we _would_ be in hot water for."

It didn't take long to get the area cleared, though, and they packed it into the back of the truck to take back into town. When their task was completed, they went back to their debate on where to go next.

"I think we should go back to the falls, isn't there a hiking trail back there?"

"Yeah." Lightning nodded in confirmation. "It's pretty nice actually, was an old logging road back in the day."

They decided unanimously to make a day of it, separating briefly to grab backpacks or anything they felt they would need with them and piled back into the truck. Driving back toward the falls, Bobby parked in a decent sized pull off where Lightning found the start of the trail easily.

They walked in silence for some time, taking in the scenery. Looking ahead, Dusty was surprised to see they were already passing a 2 mile marker.

" _Get off your phone,_ McQueen." Bobby hounded this time.

"We're supposed to be enjoying nature."

"Yeah well if something eats me out here, I at least want people to know where to start looking."

"That's optimistic." Dusty replied.

"It's a marked trail. Nothing's going to eat you." Cal added.

"You guys don't ever watch those murder shows do you." Lightning asked.

"Wow, Lightning."

"That's murder, not animal attacks."

"I'm gunna murder _you_ if you don't shut up!"

"Bad idea, my dad's a judge."

"What, does that make you untouchable?" Jr teased.

"Uh, yeah, basically."

He received collective groans in response.

"I'm gunna find something to feed him to..."

The trees opened up to reveal an open cliff face, and the group lined up to look down at the rushing water below them.

"What was that about phones?" Lightning asked no one specifically as they all stood taking pictures.

"Don't even-."

"This at least is picture worthy. Whatever you were doing earlier wasn't."

"I have no cell service..."

"We're taking _pictures_ , not making _phone calls_."

"Don't fall!" Bobby shouted, grabbing a hold of Dusty's arm. The pilot had jumped and braced his feet instinctively even though they weren't that close to the edge.

"Ohhh...that- that is not funny."

"What- you're not afraid of heights are you?"

He was silent a moment. "I...might...deal with vertigo."

The group fell silent, aside from a muttered chorus of incredulity and apologies.

Dusty brushed his sweating palms over his jeans, making light of it. "It's fine, no big deal."

"Still, man. Sorry."

Lightning wasn't exactly tactful, though. "But you're a pilot."

" _Shut up_ , McQueen."

"That's different...it's hard to explain." He shrugged, ready to change the subject.

"We'll just throw Lightning over the side, maybe then we'll have a clear shot at the Cup next season." Cal punched his arm playfully.

"I told you it's a bad idea..."

They took the last few pictures they wanted and took in the view of the cliff faces across from them. The sound of the water below echoed through the canyon, distorted as it bounced off the canyon walls.

"What's that sound?" Lightning asked.

"I don't hear anything." Cal replied.

"I only hear the water." Jr added, looking over the edge.

"No...I hear it too." Dusty shook his head, looking across at Lightning.

They realized what it was too late. The strange ripping sound was coming from directly beneath them. The ground suddenly gave out and with shouts of surprise they fell nearly 30 feet down the cliff side onto a shallow ledge. As the dust settled, they coughed and set themselves to rights.

"Everyone ok?"

"If you call this ok."

"You know what I mean."

Glad to see no immediate injuries, Lightning dug in his pocket for his phone, as he keyed through the contacts he held the device up in hope of a better signal.

"I got nothin'..." Cal put his phone back in his pocket, the others nodding in agreement.

"There's gotta be _some_ signal."

They all spent the next half hour attempting to make a phone call, to anyone.

"What's the point of paying for emergency cell services if you don't have a signal?" Jr asked rhetorically, lying on his back and staring up the cliff face.

"My battery just died." Dusty commented from where he sat, his back pressed firmly against the cliff wall. The fact that Bobby and Cal were practically hanging their legs over the edge was driving him crazy.

Lightning stood up and held his phone up higher.

"Sit down, McQueen, before you do die. If we live we'll be blamed for it."

"Would like to stay on your ol' man's good side, thanks."

Lightning messed with every possible setting he could think of, accidentally tapping one of the apps.

"No phone service...but we got 4G..."

Four heads all turned at once to look at him. He grinned sarcastically in an _I'm not kidding_ manner.

He held the phone up to get everyone in the shot and trained his expression to look as hopeful and as desperate as he possibly could. "Say cheese."

"I really am going to murder him..."

* * *

"Uhhh...Doc? You might want to see this..."

With a sigh, he looked up from the engine of the Hornet and spotted Ramone in the open doorway of the garage. Glancing at the phone in his hand he rolled his eyes and reached for his tools again. "Whatever happened to dial phones?"

"No, man. You _need_ to see this-"

The tone of his friend's voice struck a nerve and he straightened again, an uneasy tension spreading through him before he even knew what he was supposed to be looking at. The fact that Sheriff's cruiser and Mater's truck had just flown past didn't help either.

Or the fact that Sheriff had just turned the sirens on.

The picture showed 5 very unhappy young men. Lightning must have taken it, being the closest to the camera, and posted it online.

 _No cell service. Stuck in the woods. Please get this viral or contact authorities. **#boost #signalboost** **#NotKidding #WeNeedHelp**_

Doc threw the tools on his desk and slammed the hood of the Hornet closed. "Get in."

They peeled out of the garage and had caught up to Mater and Sheriff in no time. Doc glared through the windshield, holding the wheel in a white knuckle grip. "What time was it posted?"

"Half hour ago-."

He grit his teeth, swearing lowly and hugging a turn so tight that Ramone cringed. "How do you know I could tell anyway?"

"I'm not completely illiterate with modern media."

He drove impatiently behind the tow truck and swung into the gravel pull off beside Bobby's truck before getting out and slamming the door. Ramone had never seen him so wound up.

Sheriff was on his radio, calling in the truck vin to get an official report started while Mater sized up the width of the old logging road.

Doc turned back toward Ramone. "Let me see that photo again."

He pulled his phone back out, turning it on it's side to get the photo bigger as the three of them studied the image.

"I can' tell where it is-" Mater started, but Ramone zoomed in over the boys' heads where the rock ledges on the other side of the river could just barely be made out.

"The cliffs-" They all said in unison, and Doc was already heading back to the Hornet. He waved an arm to get the Sheriff's attention and pointed down the logging road.

"Doc." Mater started hesitantly. "I dunno if the truck'll make it back there. 'S awful sandy and the four wheel drive hasn' worked since '99..."

Doc eyed the truck from where he'd stopped at the door of the Hudson. "Four wheel and sand don't mix anyway." He paused. "You mean you _never_ replaced that drive shaft?"

Mater shrugged helplessly. "Never needed to-"

With a set jaw and deep scowl he continued after getting back into the car. Leaning out of the rolled down window, Doc spoke over the sound of the siren of Red's engine that was just now making it up the hill.

"Let air out of your tires. Get back that road as far as you can without getting stuck." He jabbed a finger down the logging road before reaching for the stick shift.

"Doc, I don't even know if we can make it back there." Ramone frowned from the passenger seat.

Backing out of the pull off, the Hornet threw gravel as it tore onto the logging road.

"The hell we can't."

* * *

 **AN2: Two parter!**


	9. Walk In The Woods 2

**AN: Meanwhile back at the ranch**

* * *

"How long do you think it'll be before someone from town sees that tweet..."

Lightning looked across at Jr, who was still lying prone with his hat pulled low over his eyes.

"Can't be that long..." It had already been retweeted a few hundred times before his phone had died. Someone had commented they would call Radiator Springs PD.

"How long have we been out here?" Cal asked.

"Over an hour..."

"Feels longer..."

Lightning sat beside Dusty, going through his backpack for at least the 30th time, just in case he had overlooked an extra water bottle he already knew he hadn't packed. He looked up at the cloudless sky over them, squinting into the sunlight briefly before looking back down. The hottest part of the day, and they were stuck on a stone slab. He could feel the heat radiating off the rock they rested against and sighed lowly, stretching his neck to relieve nervous tension. He dug through the old backpack again and noticed the shine of cellophane. He wasn't sure how long that pack of crackers had been buried, but at the moment he wasn't that concerned. He opened the pack and silently offered one to the pilot beside him.

Dusty glanced at him and shook his head, thanking him anyway.

There was no more joking around or light conversation, the seriousness of their situation had settled in and the group all remained uncomfortably silent.

"Did you hear that...?"

"Nothing good ever comes from you saying that." Bobby warned.

"No, listen." Lighting shifted slightly, turning an ear toward the path they'd been walking that morning.

"It's an engine." Dusty commented.

The sound of sirens echoed faintly in the distance, sounding miles away.

"At least they're on their way." Cal muttered, staring up toward the edge of the cliff.

Bobby frowned. "Yeah, but what if they don't know where to look? Or can't even get back here?"

Lightning zippered up his pack roughly, nearly taking the comment as an insult as tempers began to flair.

"I think you're underestimating their abilities."

"No offense, McQueen, but we're in the middle of nowhere."

"They'll find us."

"And get back here how? That road's barely drivable-"

"You'd be surprised." He snapped.

An even more uncomfortable silence descended, the sirens still echoing through the canyons. Lightning could only imagine what everyone was thinking. He hoped Sally wasn't panicking, if he was lucky she was still too busy at The Wheel Well to even know.

That was wishful thinking.

Doc was going to kill him, he already knew that.

"They'll use ATV's..."

Everyone turned to look at Dusty.

"Or ORV's...Offroad Rescue Vehicles. Same thing really but better equipped."

* * *

The Hudson Hornet fishtailed as it found purchase in the soft ground beneath it. Doc had never cared much for driving on sand, he merely tolerated it. It was less predictable than dirt. Obstacles on dirt could at least be seen and avoided. Sand was deeper and hid any number of things that could trip a driver up.

Sand wasn't nearly as forgiving.

"How the hell are they going to get anyone back here..." He asked aloud as he shifted gears.

Ramone didn't answer, watching the road for any evidence of the boys' presence. He'd gone back through all the tweets and messages of that morning, hoping that something would have given another clue as to their whereabouts, an image of the road, anything, but it was only pictures of the town and some banter with fans.

They flew past the 1st and 2nd mile markers, and Doc only began to slow when the left side of the road began to open, the trees thinning out and the image of the cliffs beginning to peak through.

"There-" Ramone pointed ahead of them at a disturbed section of the bank. "That might be it."

They skid to a stop and Doc once again slammed the door shut, vehicle still running. Making it to the edge, he fought back a wave of panic before looking over the cliff side, afraid of what he might find.

He was relieved to see five emotionally, and physically, exhausted faces staring back up at him.

"You boys sure know how to get everyone's attention."

There were some murmured comments he couldn't make out but he did hear Lightning's, "Hey, Doc..."

Heat exhaustion and dehydration he could tell just by looking at them.

"We're gunna get you all out of there." He started a mental checklist of what would need to be brought in and asked a few questions before turning to Ramone. "Will you stay here with-"

He didn't get to finish when Ramone waved him off. "Go, man. I'm not going anywhere."

Doc nodded, getting back into the vehicle. He got himself turned around on the narrow trail and was soon heading back for the main road.

Bobby looked toward Lightning as the familiar sounds of the Hornet faded. "Call me surprised..."

Nearly halfway back, he came up alongside Mater's truck, Doc waited until he rolled the window down.

"It's no good. Your truck won't make it."

"You find 'em?" He asked hopefully.

Doc nodded sharply. "Come on back and we'll go back out on the quads."

The junction of the logging road and the main road to The Wheel Well was chaos. Traffic control had been put into effect and the entrance of the logging road closed off, curious onlookers were being ushered along on their route to or from the hotel. Doc pulled the Hornet up on the inside of the tape, seeing Sally's porsche, and shut the engine off before seeking out the Sheriff.

Sally caught sight of him over the Sheriff's shoulder and ignored any formalities. "Did you find them? Is-"

"He's fine, Sally." He guided her to the E-Z pop up awning that had been set up as an impromptu headquarters for search and rescue. He then made mention to one of the responders present to keep an eye on her.

Handing her a bottle of water, he added. "Won't help him at all if we have to treat you too. Take it easy."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah...ok."

Turning back toward Sheriff, he pointed down the trail. Sally listened in and was startled by the shift in the tones and speech they used, she'd never seen this side of either of them before.

"They're about 2.5 miles back, Ramone stayed on the road."

"Med-evac?"

"Won't be necessary, but I want a full EMS kit sent back with me. Prevalent heat exhaustion but I was unable to do true evaluation."

"The kit on engine #99 was just replaced."

Doc nodded, already heading for Red's favorite engine. Upon retrieving the large duffle, he answered Sheriff's last question.

"Transportation?"

He'd paused briefly and looked over the vehicles present before continuing on.

"Stick with the ATV's."

* * *

They were granted two search and rescue quads. As he secured the response kit, he watched as Mater was given a case of waters to strap down. Sheriff held the tape up as the two of them, along with a handful of other responders, headed back out to the location.

It seemed to take longer the second time, every bend they came around he expected to see Ramone standing on the side of the road. Finally spotting him, the group came to a stop and got themselves organized.

"Not yet, Mater." He cautioned when he saw the tow truck driver opening the case of water. He spoke while getting his own supplies in order. "We're going to set up over here in the trees. The most important thing is to get them out of the sun first."

Doc continued to give him instructions, asking him to make sure there was a bag of ice ready for each of the boys as they were brought up from the ledge. Explaining that they needed to concentrate on getting their body temps down.

Ramone moved out of the way as the responders looked over the edge, a young EMT in sunglasses spoke.

"Any serious injuries?"

He was met with a chorus of 'no'.

The other responder questioned him quietly. "There's not much room down there. It'll be tight getting them secured in a harness..."

"I can do it." Dusty spoke up, at the skeptical looks he received he continued. "I know what I'm doing."

"Look, kid-"

"I'm _certified_."

The EMT stuttered briefly before consenting and the two disappeared over the edge. Moments later, a harness and safety paracord were lowered down.

Cal was the only one to comment. "This group's just full of surprises huh..."

Slowly but surely, the group was brought back up to the logging road. All of them sitting or lying in the shade of the trees on the other side. Lightning sat, dazed, as he watched Mater bringing more ice from the coolers. He felt someone taking the Gatorade from his hand and started to protest, only to look up in exhaustion to see the sharp blue eyes of Doc considering him with concern.

He replaced the sports drink in his hand with an open water before putting the blood pressure cuff around Lightning's arm. Lightning was silent, watching as his heart rate was taken before Doc adjusted the stethoscope for a blood pressure reading.

Undoing the velcro of the cuff, he pushed Lightning's shoulder gently. "Lie down."

"What?"

"Lie down." He looked over his shoulder. "Mater, I need more ice over here."

"What's wrong?"

Doc could hear the edge of panic in his voice and explained as he placed a rolled towel behind Lightning's head. "Relax, Hot Rod. Your bp is high and I'm just not particularly fond of how your heart sounds right now."

"Will I be ok?"

Doc grinned faintly from where he knelt with an arm over his knee, answering as he took the bag of ice from Mater. "You'll be fine, you just need to cool down."

After making sure he was comfortable, Doc went to stand but paused, seeming to have noticed something. "Did you hit your head?"

Lightning's brow furrowed and he answered even as Doc was checking his eyes. "No? Pretty sure I-" He reached up and pulled his hand away again to inspect it, finding blood. "Um...yes?"

He was silent as Doc inspected the wound hidden in his hairline, wincing when he brushed his thumb over it.

"It's been clotted a while..." He leaned back and sighed. "Alright. Where are you?"

"What?"

"Where are we."

"In the middle of the woods."

"The date?"

"Umm...where's my phone?"

"It would just be easier to diagnose you with a concussion."

"It's July. Right?"

"Lightning this isn't funny."

He fell abruptly silent at that, he was rarely referred to as _Lightning,_ and definitely never in that tone of voice. He studied his mentor a moment and realized he seemed just as exhausted as the rest of them. Under the veneer of professionalism he was extremely fatigued.

"Right..."

He answered the last few questions to the best of his ability. Doc nodded once and stood, brushing the dirt from his jeans before moving to check on the others.

Lightning closed his eyes and listened to the conversation between Doc and the first responders, he had no idea what half of the terms they were using meant and tried to figure out what they could be referring to. He wondered idly if Sally felt that way when they were talking about racing.

"-aside from dehydration, there's no treatment needed."

"What about number 5?" _What were they talking in code now? Oh right, Hippocratic oath and all that._

"Nausea, headache and ringing of the ears-"

"Any hypocapnia?

"No. Administered ondansetron for nausea. He said as soon as he got on even ground he'd be alright." _Dusty._

Lightning couldn't see Cal, Bobby or Jr from where he was lying, but shifting to his right he could see where the pilot was lying with his eyes closed.

"Hey."

Dusty blinked a few times, having nearly fallen asleep. He looked toward Lightning questioningly.

Lightning grinned tiredly. "Welcome to Radiator Springs."

* * *

 **AN2: This apparently is going to be longer than two parts...not sure how many!**


	10. 1954

**AN: Jump in the wayback machine! We're heading back to the 50's!**

* * *

She can't remember what had started the argument, but she certainly remembers the remarks that had ended it. Well, her's anyway.

She'd told him that all he was trying to do was replace Ruth, and that she wasn't going to put up with it. He'd blanched, eyeing her in shocked silence for a moment before slamming the tools he'd been using into Smokey's tool chest and leaving the garage.

Sometimes she wished someone would punch him in his perfect teeth. Sometimes she wished it were her.

She isn't that surprised when Smokey appears in the doorway of the garage, asking just _what the hell_ had happened. When she explains the situation, his eyes harden and his tone isn't exactly one of sympathy or understanding.

"Well, don't expect to hear from him for a few days."

She never mentions Jesse's deceased twin sister again.

Smokey's right, she doesn't hear from him, but where he said it would be days, it draws out into weeks.

Then, Jesse really does get that punch in the teeth, a thousand times over.

Louise stands in the hallway of the hospital, flanked by Scott and Moon after driving a dazed Smokey from the track. He'd been silent the whole ride, only mentioning once they'd gotten out of the car and were entering the main doors that he'd killed his brother. It was his fault.

"He was going to scratch-"

"Sm-" She'd hesitated and started over, turning to face him fully. "Henry, look at me. He _always_ considers scratching out on sand tracks."

Moon points out that this was a championship race, no way in hell was Hud actually going to scratch. When had he _ever_ actually scratched?

Hours pass with no word. Louise watches the nurses behind the front desk and holds Smokey back from asking for information for a third time. Nurses, doctors and family members visiting patients meander up and down the hall to their right and she wonders vaguely how serious Hud's injuries are in comparison to the other emergency cases here. She squeezes Smokey's hand once as their attention is drawn toward the heavy wooden doors of the waiting area. With some effort, one of the nurses in a white cotton dress holds it open and looks over the group questioningly.

"Mr. Hudson? Your brother's in room 11."

Without a word to the rest of them, Smokey leaves the group in the waiting room.

Time stands still. She glances up at the clock, sure that at least an hour has passed, only to be forcefully reminded that it's only been 15 minutes. That can't be right. Louise closes her eyes in an attempt to relax, but every time she does she sees cars swerving ahead of her as the drivers lay on the breaks, her own front end nearly colliding with Scott's and a familiar pattern of navy and white tumbling across the shore ahead of them.

She doesn't know where all the medical personnel had come from, but by the time she'd gotten out of her car they'd already had a barricade put in place. Her heart had jumped into her throat, fearing the worst when they had denied Smokey's request to pass through. The Hornet was a mess, and at least a dozen people surrounded where Hud must have been lying on the ground beside it. Louise had hoped to at least get a glimpse of him, to see if he was alright, but was terrified to at the same time.

Sometimes it was better not knowing.

She stands abruptly, and at the questioning looks from the other two explains that she needs air. Leaving the building, she stands under the portico and watches the hustle and bustle of the town she's not even sure she remembers the name of. She's surprised to see that evening is drawing on, the last time she'd been outside the sun had been beating on her neck as she stood in line with the other racers watching the medical crews.

Louise doesn't understand, listening as a few older gentleman talk and laugh amongst themselves and a child that bounces alongside his mother across the street. How can they be so cheerful? How can the rest of the world continue as if nothing is happening inside those doors. Jesse Hudson could be _dying,_ their lives could be turned upside down any moment and people had the nerve to go about their usual business as if nothing were wrong. She needs a cigarette, but they're back in the car she'd left at the track.

Scott's beside her suddenly, and she feels a touch of apprehension when he speaks.

"Smokey just talked to us...they're only allowing family back for the meantime...and visiting hours are over anyway."

"What'd he say-"

"He's a mess, Louise."

She's not sure if he means Smokey or Hud.

* * *

They pile back into Moon's car and the knots in her stomach have tightened considerably. She doesn't know what the term _flail chest_ means, but she's fairly certain she doesn't want to.

They unanimously decide to stay with Smokey that night.

He's red eyed and hoarse, trying to explain as they sit around the old coffee table in the hotel suite. "They'd put him in one of those iron lungs-"

"What?" Scott asked with a skeptical look. "Isn't that for pneumonia-"

"Or polio?" Moon added.

Smokey nodded before continuing, he gestured around his chest. "They have this band around him, to support his ribs-"

Louise closed her eyes.

"They want him on the oxygen to help him breath."

Moon's hesitant to ask. "Is that...the only-"

Smokey only shakes his head.

They find places to sleep for the night, the couch, the extra room, the floor. Soon it's only Smokey and Louise sitting in the little main room, chain smoking and drinking the hardest stuff available.

Which at the moment is sweet tea.

On any other night, the group would be up till all hours of the morning, the orange lighting hazy with cigarette smoke as they dealt another hand of poker. They'd all work their hardest at getting whatever purse money had been won that day, usually by Jesse, but he was never willing to risk more than a hundred dollars.

He always looked totally at ease, whether on the track, playing cards or in front of a camera, but it was moments like those, after races when they were trying to get his money off him that he looked most relaxed, shuffling the deck and wearing that brown fedora he loved so much.

She's silent, exhaling and crushing the end of the cigarette into the ashtray. She looks about the little kitchenette of the hotel room and feels her throat tighten. She can almost layout Jesse's routine from that morning.

A half empty cup of coffee sits on the counter beside the folded paper, and a scribbled list of who's scratched from the race lay beside that.

That happened more often than not, she'd heard some drivers complain that there was no point entering a race _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ had entered. They'd scratch as soon as they saw the title on the field list.

She turned back toward Smokey. "Did-" Her mouth forms a thin line before she forces herself to continue. "Did they explain-..."

"His injuries?"

She nods silently, and reaches for his hand when he takes a deep breath.

"Uh, well..." He hesitates. "Took a good blow to the head...chest, right arm fractured in two places-"

Louise squeezes his hand, seeing the cracks widening in her friend's facade.

"I think they said a fracture or severe sprain to one of his ankles."

Smokey's brow furrows and his mouth straightens into a tight line, staring at the table. "Was bad enough losing Ruth."

She leans forward over the table. "He's going to be fine." She moves her chair closer to sit beside him. The wall he'd built around himself crumbles when she reaches out to wrap her arms around him.

* * *

 **AN2: Walk In The Woods will certainly be continued, but I don't always post arcs in order**


	11. 1954-2

They'd finally released him to go home.

Smokey had been a bit of a liaison between the four of them. Doctors had said at the four week mark that visitors would be acceptable, but it would still be in his best interest to keep those visits and the amount of people at a minimum.

It didn't matter anyway, Jesse had told his brother there was no point. Smokey was forced to repeatedly tell the others that with the medications they had him on, he slept most the day. Jesse didn't want them wasting their time.

He'd only shrugged when Scott protested, telling him he'd have to take it up with Jesse when he got home.

He'd been in the hospital ten weeks, which made it nearly three months since the last time she'd spoken with him. Louise stood in the garage as the group kept Smokey company. Having nothing else to do in the off season they were usually here anyway. She couldn't believe the amount of damage to the Hudson Hornet, or the fact they were attempting to salvage it.

"It's scrap metal, Smokey." Moon shook his head, eyeing the twisted and dented frame work. "Has he even seen it?"

"No." Smokey grunted, wrestling with the tire wrench in his attempt to remove the first of many lug nuts. Scott moved around the car to help him, and passed him the can of WD-40.

"How's he doin' anyway."

The elder Hudson brother hissed, scraping his knuckles on the red wheel rim. " 'bout as good as a cat on a hot tin roof."

"That good, huh."

He flexed his fingers and thanked Louise as she passed him a clean rag to wrap them in. He sprayed the lug nuts and waited a moment to see if the newly fabricated 'wonder spray' was actually worth it.

He shook his head. "Kid brother or not, he keeps snappin' at me the way he has been I'll send his scrawny hide back to the hospital."

Louise nearly snorted, knowing as well as the rest of them that he was all bark and no bite.

* * *

She'd pulled up to the farmhouse and sat silently in the car for a moment before gaining the courage to even open the door. By the time she reached the bottom of the steps, Smokey was leaning against the door frame, hidden somewhat by the screen.

He'd been staying in the old family house lately, afraid to leave Jesse on his own.

"Not a good day..."

"Surely can't be that bad, he's alive isn't he."

Smokey only shrugged, hard eyed and lead toned. "Just not a good day." He pushed the screen door open and passed her on the steps, heading toward the barn.

She watched him leave with a look of vague confusion and looked back toward the house, suddenly noticing one of those new air conditioners in a window around the side, she's surprised she hadn't heard it first for as loud as it is.

With a deep sigh she opens the door, making an attempt at levity as she enters the house.

"Air conditioning? Since when can you afford that luxury?"

She doesn't get an answer and her mouth forms a thin line as she walks through the foyer and peaks into each room, finally coming into the sitting room where he lies on the couch. The air conditioner has made the room fairly chilly and despite the fact that it's warm outside, he's huddled under a blanket.

"Oh, Jesse..."

His arm is out of the sling she'd been told he was forced to wear but she can't tell from where she's standing if he still has the brace around his chest. What she can see is that he still has an incredible amount of bruising to the right side of his head, the swelling is gone, but it looks incredibly painful. No wonder Smokey would seem so shaken when asked about him.

His eyes are closed, and she's not sure if he's asleep or not.

With another low sigh (she feels like she's been doing that a lot lately) she passed through the room and returned with a glass of water.

For him or her she doesn't really know.

"Why must you succeed so spectacularly at _everything_ you do?"

Finally, his eyes do open slowly and she makes a light comment over having not seen those baby blues for a while but his expression is clouded, like he's trying to figure out why she's there.

She's struck by another comment of Smokey's and feels the room get colder.

 _He's dealing with what they're calling short term memory loss..._

"Well." One side of his mouth rises in a lopsided grin. "If it isn' the First Lady of Piston."

Louise feels her shoulders relax and she gestures across to the window unit. "Since when can you afford air conditioning?"

His expression falls and he glances toward what she'd indicated. "Since they said I need it to breath. Something about taking the humidity out of the air."

She holds out the glass of water silently but he shakes his head, pushing himself up into a better sitting position.

"So how many of those ribs did you break?"

He looks up at her with a raised brow as he gets comfortable again. "Three. One of 'em in two places."

"You're incredible"

"No, fabulous."

"Have you seen that car?" She asked suddenly, pointing in a vague direction, not really caring if it's the direction toward Smokey's or not.

"No, and don't tell me it's not worth it. _Everyone_ feels the need to tell me it's pointless."

"I don't think it'll ever be road worthy-"

"The car's fine."

""Why are you like this? Smokey says you've been-"

"Because it's _my_ car, and _I'll_ decide what to do with it."

 _Oh..._

"Jesse, you're not-"

"You know that thing probably would've saved Ruth?" He's pointedly not looking at her, changing the subject as he stares at the air conditioner, his jaw set.

She stares too. "Maybe..."

"It would've."

Louise falls silent, suddenly realizing why it isn't a good day. Ruth Hudson had passed away two years ago, sometime this week, from the same illness that had taken their mother years before that. The two brothers were the only surviving family.

"Henry told me about the car."

"Why don't you ever call him-"

"It's not his name." He attempted a faint grin.

"Jesse..." She asked after a moment, studying his face when he finally looked at her straight on. "Are you alright?"

She couldn't help but notice how fantastically the purple bruise stood out against his blue eye as he hesitated to answer.

"Yeah, Lou. I'm alright."


	12. Walk In The Woods 3

**AN: I know this was getting requests, and I'm happy to know everyone likes it! If I don't post an arc series quickly it's because I don't like to update unless I'm at least 90% happy with what I've just written. Hope I don't disappoint!**

* * *

It felt like they'd been in the trees for hours, but he'd take anything over being stuck on the side of that cliff. He had actually dozed off there for a while.

"When are they taking us back?" Lightning asked, looking up from his prone position to where Doc was sitting beside him.

"Not sure." He replied, looking out toward the ledge the boys had fallen from before glancing back toward Lightning. "Want to make sure everyone's stable before making you sit on an ATV."

"Hmm..." He was silent a few moments, just wanting to get back to town. He didn't care if it was early afternoon, he was ready to sleep for the next 8 hours.

He broke the silence again, only after looking in either direction and folding his arms behind his head.

"Hey, Doc?"

"Yeah, Hot Shot."

Lightning stared up at the sky through the tree limbs. "Remember a while back when I had all those cactus tines in my arm."

"Uh huh, and I'm starting to sense a pattern-"

"Well." Lightning paused for dramatic effect. "I had this interesting conversation with Mater-"

"As all conversations with Mater are-" He could hear the underlying _get on with it, Rookie_ , as if Doc had actually said it.

"And, well, he happened to impart some information I thought was _extremely_ interesting."

Lightning waited for a response, allowing the silence to stretch for quite a while because he _so_ wanted Doc to react. He wasn't patient enough, though.

"I was told-" He looked around again. "That _you_ told him about cow tippin' when he was a kid."

The only visual reaction he got was the flash of the aviator sunglasses when Doc turned to look at him fully. "Excuse me?"

"You told him!"

"I most certainly did not.

"Mater wouldn't lie to me."

"Ohho and I would?"

"If the shoe fits."

He watched with a smug grin as Doc shook his head, looking back over the logging road. Lightning had closed his eyes again and was somewhat startled to hear his voice when he spoke.

"I did not tell him about _cow tipping._ " Doc repeated seriously. "I _may have_ at _one time_ told him that a cow could and possibly _would_ fall over if he was sneaky enough to startle one without it noticing him beforehand."

Lightning stuttered briefly. "That's-...that's the same thing!"

"No it isn't." He stood and brushed his jeans off before grinning smugly at the kid.

"That sounds an awful lot like a lawyer's dodge."

"Where do you think judges come from?"

* * *

The boys were finally deemed healthy enough to make the trek back out to the main road, hitching a ride on the back of each of the quads that had been sent out in search of them. To their dismay, camera crews and reporters were lined up against the caution tape, waiting for the moment they could corner any one of them to get a comment. With some handy maneuvering on Red's part, though, engine #99 was suddenly blocking the view of the racers from the rest of the world.

Sally ran forward as they all stood together behind the engine, asking if they were all ok and apologizing for the fiasco. She turned fully toward Lightning and swatted his arm sharply. "And you! I can't believe you'd wander off into the middle of nowhere without telling anyone! What if you hadn't even been able to use the internet? You'd still be out there!"

He raised both hands appeasingly. "Sorry, Sal. I wasn't expecting-"

"Well...they would've seen my truck eventually..." Bobby muttered in an attempt to help.

"I'd stay out of this one..." Jr cautioned, looking away and deciding that just about anything was more interesting than the irate girlfriend of Lightning McQueen.

Before too long, the boys made it back to town and were set up at Doc's clinic. The first responders wanted to make sure there were no concerns before finally giving the group the green light.

"I ever tell you I don't like needles?" Lightning asked, staring at the wall.

"Little late now." Doc replied as he taped down the IV port.

Dusty was in the 'room' beside him, though Lightning couldn't really call it a room considering he could just pull the curtain down if he wanted to see the other.

The pilot was feeling 100% better, and knew that everything at this point was just precaution. He'd dug through his bag and found his phone charger, making a face when the phone turned on and immediately started to chime incessantly with notifications.

"Who's blowin' up your phone, Crophopper?" Cal asked from the other room, pulling the curtain back.

"Uh- hah...everyone." He frowned in apology. "I have a lot of calls to make..."

Cal shrugged, holding up his own phone. "Me too."

"Yeah..." Dusty scrolled through the missed calls, figuring he should start at the top. He tapped the number and listened to it ring, sitting cross legged on the bed.

"Hey Sparky, yeah yeah everything's fine. Hey could you give the phone to- oh-... _Skip!_ I just-"

Lightning flinched, looking toward Doc with a frown. "Ow! What'd you pinch me for?"

"Checking for dehydration." He deadpanned, looking up at the IV bag. "And it's rude to eavesdrop."

* * *

Sally had checked to make sure everything was running smoothly at The Wheel Well before returning to The Cozy Cone. Pulling in to her reserved space she spotted Lightning walking across from the clinic. She met him around the back, at the door to the apartment built off the back of the lobby.

"Stickers."

"Hey, Sal."

She threw her arms around his neck, just needing the reassurance of his presence and was comforted when he put his arms around her. Leaning back, she cupped his face in her hands, her eyes welling with tears.

"I've never been so scared- you're ok?"

"I'm ok." He replied with an exhausted smile as she fussed over him.

"-and you're all sunburnt. Are you hungry? I can-"

He cut her off with a quick kiss. "I'm fine, Sal. I'd just like to get some sleep."

"Yeah, ok..." She nodded before finally releasing him. Unlocking the door, she pushed it open and turned the air on, looking over her shoulder as he collapsed on the couch.

"Any special instructions I need to know about?"

"Just to take it easy." He replied drowsily.

She huffed, rolling her eyes as she went to leave the apartment again, wanting to let him get some sleep, peace and quiet.

"A Piston Cup racer taking it easy. Right."

It was hours before Lightning woke. Sitting up in a daze, he searched for the nearest clock and groaned when he saw the time. 10:25, no wonder it was so dark. He washed his face, and looked himself over in the bathroom mirror. Sally was right, he had gotten pretty sunburnt. With a sigh, he left the apartment and started down the main drag of Radiator Springs. He figured everyone would be at Flo's by now and wasn't disappointed when he saw everyone under the canopy at one of the newer outdoor tables.

"No! I'm tellin' ya's! It was there!"

"What is he talking about?" Lightning asked, coming up beside Sally.

"Who knows." She replied, threading her arm around his. "But your friends love it."

Mater's story was cut short as Fillmore pulled up with the bus, leaning out the window. "Hey, does anyone want a ride down to the Butte?"

Sheriff checked his watch. "It's only 10:30. Fireworks start at midnight."

"Yeah man, but we're a popular place now you know. It's getting crowded down there."

As if to confirm Fillmore's comment, Sheriff's radio went off requesting more traffic control and if there was more space to start an overflow parking lot.

"Keep them off my track." Doc stated, getting up from the table. Sheriff was barely able to get his radio unclipped to respond when everyone else had stood to leave the table as well.

Mater, Bobby, Cal, Jr and Dusty all climbed up into the van. Jr turned around to see if Lightning wanted them to try to make a space for him and Sally but Lightning only shook his head.

"We'll walk." He shrugged and smirked.

"Just don't trip and break an ankle." Dusty commented out the window as the van passed them.

The couple walked in companionable silence, the moon just bright enough to light their path. Lightning glanced toward Sally once and raised a brow. "Is that my jacket?"

"No, Cal's." Before he could comment she bumped his shoulder with her own. "Yes, it's yours...I got cold after the sun went down."

He put an arm around her, grinning faintly. "Looks good on you."

Hearing animated chatter behind them, Lightning glanced over his shoulder to see Luigi and Guido walking down the path some distance back. Sheriff's cruiser had stopped alongside who he thought might have been Doc, most likely deciding where to set up an overflow parking lot. A long line of headlights waited behind the cruiser and silhouettes of tourists could be seen walking down the path even further back. He looked back to Sally.

"So much for a small fireworks show, huh..."

"I told you the town would go down the drain when that racing headquarters was built."

They caught up with the rest of the group, suddenly realizing they hadn't brought anything with them to sit on, or even drink.

"I can go back." Lightning suggested. "It's not even quarter of yet."

"No need." Bobby said, coming up beside them. "There was enough packed in the van for everyone to use."

They laid out a few blankets and set up a cooler between them. Before sitting down, Lightning took in the surroundings of the bluff and down below them. Groups of people dotted the landscape, some with grills and coolers and many of them with radios. He caught sight of Sarge's jeep at the bottom and realized he must have been the one in charge of the event. Finally sitting beside Sally, he leaned back against the front tire of the Volkswagon bus.

Some years ago, as a Piston Cup rookie, he'd been asked by his agent to give twenty names for tickets to a race and hadn't been able to come up with one. Looking at the group sitting with him, as his racing friends were trying to get Mater to move the antenna of the radio just right, as Luigi and Guido caught up to them, as Flo and Ramone brought another cooler to the group, and as Sheriff and Doc discussed how close tourists were permitted to the display, he could only take it all in with a smile.

The crowd hushed abruptly, as it was apparent the first fuses had been lit. Sally glanced over her shoulder at him and tilted her head questioningly. "What is it?"

He only shook his head, grinning widely. "Nothin', I'm just really happy."

 _LightningMcQueenOfficial: Thanks for the well wishes! We're all fine!_

The next post was a series of images, of the group on the blankets, of the fireworks, multiple selfies of himself and Sally or others, and a group picture of the racers together.

 _LightningMcQueenOfficial: Taking in some fireworks with the family. **#RadiatorSprings #Fireworks #LightEmUp #Kachow**_

* * *

 **AN2: I had wanted to ask this before but forgot to! What hashtags would you all have used for this little escapade?**


	13. History

Smokey hadn't thought the first phone call was that important. What was important was getting the truck finished for Mr. Brown so the man could get back to his farm work.

The cash it provided wasn't too bad either.

Times had gotten tight right after Jesse was forced to sit out of the Piston Cup series. Luckily enough for him, his garage had earned quite the reputation through Hud's success on the track and he was provided with a constant stream of business in and out of the garage doors. He wouldn't touch Piston Cup vehicles, though, not even for his friends. He'd been on the receiving end of a lot of hostility from other drivers for that.

 _Doesn't hurt me any_. He thought to himself, letting the hood of the Chevy truck fall shut as he turned to see the line up of vehicles waiting to be worked on.

Maybe he'd have to get Hud's help on some of them.

Jesse had concentrated solely on the Hornet though, and truthfully, Smokey was amazed at what he'd been able to accomplish with it. He hadn't seen his brother smile that widely since the last Piston Cup he'd won. They'd stood in front of the finished Hornet two days ago, in the very spot the truck was currently occupying.

"I dunno how you did it..."

It looked as new as the day he'd driven it all the way back from Michigan, having been granted the vehicle from The Hudson Motor Car Company. All it needed was the white lettering and decals and it'd be track worthy.

"Blood, sweat, and tears."

Jesse had stopped by earlier that afternoon to let him know he was on his way to see Joe Moore, one of the administrative guys at Thomasville to discuss the upcoming season. He'd been antsy, drumming his fingers on the car door as he'd leaned against it during their conversation.

"You sure you're ready?" Smokey had asked, catching his nervous energy. "You've still-"

"Course I'm ready." Jesse answered incredulously.

Smokey leveled him with a look. "Your head?"

"Is fine."

The first time Jesse had asked him the same question, three times in half an hour, he'd been terrified, ready to take him back to the hospital. It had been explained to him that his brother would most likely suffer some memory issues for a while until he was fully healed. After nearly a year, he hadn't noticed it as often, so either Hud was fully mended or had just gotten better at not repeating himself as much.

"What about that pain you were talking about-"

Jesse rolled his eyes melodramatically. "I'll probably have that the rest of my life."

"Alright." He'd raised his hands in defeat and could only shake his head when Jesse had gotten back into the car, leaning out the window.

"Your _Best 'darn' garage in town_ is gunna have to close up shop." He'd gestured to the sign and the building before peeling out of the lot, shouting as he did so.

"See you on the track!"

* * *

The second phone call was important, he'd started on another car, was stuck underneath checking a fitting when it rang shrilly through the otherwise quiet garage. Sliding the creeper out from underneath, he was surprised to see it was dark outside. Jesse must have had a lot of paperwork to go through.

He'd picked up the phone and held it to his ear with his shoulder, wiping grease from his hands. "Smokey's Garage-"

"Smokey, you seen Hud?"

He hesitated, straightening and taking the phone in his hand. "Not since earlier, why?"

"You may wanna check on him."

"What's going on, Scott?"

"I dunno, he was leaving when I got here, totally frosted. When I'd gotten inside I thought the guys at the track were gunna jump _me_."

"Al-...alright...I'll call you back later." He'd hung up the phone once Scott had said goodbye and jumped into his own truck, not even taking the time to close up his shop as he left to find Jesse.

He was relieved to see lights on and the Hornet around the side of the house, but getting out of the truck he was concerned to hear a door slam. He let himself in, walking through the main rooms and down the hallway toward the kitchen. He glanced around each corner, not even sure Hud was in the house. Movement to the left caught his attention and his brows lowered in confusion when he took in the figure of his younger brother stalking across the kitchen, ignoring him when he spoke and shoving the screen door to the back porch open with a bang as he exited the house.

"The hell is wrong with you?"

Jesse had hesitated just outside the doorway, rubbing a hand over the back of his sunburnt neck before continuing onto the porch.

Smokey followed doggedly. "Are you gunna explain what the problem is or just waltz around here like an angry red hen?"

"I'm done."

"What?"

"I'm _done_." He turned partially back toward Smokey, toying with the cigarette pack in his hand.

"Done with _what,_ what are you talking about?"

"They won't let me race, Henry!" He exploded, looking up at his older brother finally, face flushed and eyes red.

Smokey fell silent, a chill running down his spine. "What?"

"I'm done. History. A name to be put in the record books just so it can be replaced in a few years."

"Who decided-?"

"All of 'em!" He rounded on his brother fully. "I'm a liability. This new and improving sport doesn't have room for _risks._ " He spat.

"Jesse I'm sure-"

"Do you know what they've done?" He gestured violently as he pointed in the general direction of Thomasville Speedway, unlit cigarette held between two fingers. "Do you know _what they've done?_ "

Smokey only shook his head.

His breath hitched. "They have a _team_ of _Hudsons_ with _my paint job!_ " He pointed to himself, shaking with anger.

Smokey was silent, unable to come up with a response worth verbalizing. He took a deep breath and let it out in a low sigh, watching his brother as he dropped his arm against his leg.

"Hud-"

"Don't...Don't call me _Hud."_

"Fine, what do you want me to call you?" He asked, irritation beginning to lace his tone.

Jesse turned back toward the house, passing him.

"Call me history."

* * *

They sat on the steps of the back porch for hours, watching the first of the season's fireflies floating up from the grass that already needed mowing again. Once he'd calmed down, Jesse had given a better account of his visit to the track. He'd pause now and then to compose himself, twirling the glass in his hand so the ice would spin in what was left of his drink.

The guidelines that were now being put in place seemed too restrictive to Smokey. How could a sport they themselves dominated only a year ago change so much.

"They signed on some new kid." Jesse commented dully, exhaling and ashing his cigarette over the side of the steps.

"Driving a Hudson?"

I dunno. I didn't stick around to find out. Didn't even meet him."

"There's other circuits you could-"

"No. Piston or nothing."

"Are you willing to go with nothing?"

He only received silence as his answer.

"Look, Jesse-"

"What am I gunna do, Henry..."

He hesitated, looking over his brother's profile, amazed he was even alive to have this conversation with. "Racing isn't the _be all end all_."

"Yeah." Jesse tossed back what was left in his glass and stood abruptly, leaving Smokey on the porch. "But it's all I know."

* * *

 **AN: Frosted- slang term in the '50's for extremely angry.**


	14. Veteran Racer

**AN: Cars 3 Spoilers, but kind of general knowledge...I've only seen it once so some of this might be a little different than the movie.**

 **Thank you all _SO MUCH_ for all the reviews! This has taken over as my second most commented fic!**

* * *

"Are you going to sit here and pout all afternoon?"

"I'm not pouting."

"Yeah...ok. Well when you're done with...whatever it is you're doing, the Rust-eze brothers were hoping you'd call."

Lightning looked up at Sally with a sullen expression from the extra firm hotel chair he'd been occupying all afternoon, legs stretched in front of him and his arms rested on either arm rest.

"I just-...I don't _know_ any of those guys out there Sal."

"Well." Sally sighed, sitting on the bed beside the chair. "That's the monster of progress, bigger shinier, _faster_."

"I miss the guys..."

It had started with Jr. Last fall, with the last race completed, and the annual bonfire and celebration weekend well underway in Radiator Springs, he'd pulled the group aside.

"I'm callin' it, guys. I won't be racing Piston next season."

They hadn't even tried to talk him out of it. Lightning knew the extent of the injuries his friend had dealt with in the last 12 months. Racing wasn't the easy sport so many claimed it was. They'd talked for hours, leaning against the bed of Bobby's truck, reminiscing, speculating who would take over #8, and just letting the news sink in.

Cal's announcement to retire had startled him, he'd rushed through the pits to find the Dinoco hauler loading up the baby blue stock car as Cal stood beside it with his arms crossed.

"What're you doing? You've had some good races lately-"

He'd shrugged with a wistful smile. "It's just time...too many younger guys comin' up..."

Bobby's _replacement_ had been a slap in the face. Lightning had been standing in the #95 pit space, suit half on when he saw Bobby leaning against the wall.

"Um, yo- Swift! Shouldn't you be getting suited up?"

"Nope." He stood with his arms crossed, sunglasses shielding his expression.

"What's going on?"

"I don't drive for #19."

"What?"

"Yeah, got the call about 20 minutes ago. They've moved on to the next kid in line."

Lightning's stomach had turned violently.

He'd been distracted the entire race, and was extremely tired of seeing the sleek #2.0 (what a stupid number) ahead to his right.

Lightning had climbed out of his car afterward, ignoring the giant screens broadcasting the interviews from the winner circle. He'd tossed his helmet through the window onto the driver's seat and slapped his baseball cap against his thigh in frustration as he passed the rest of the crew. Mater had only wanted to help, and Lightning felt even worse for snapping at him in response.

"I wish I knew how t' help, bud...but I think Doc woulda understood how you're feelin' better than anyone of us right now..."

"Yeah, Mater?" He'd tossed the paper cup of water in the trash with a little more force than necessary as he passed. " _I'm sure he would've_."

As if he hadn't felt bad enough over it, he'd gotten an earful from Sally later.

* * *

He'd hung up the phone and sunk further into the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah...I guess." Lightning sighed. "They just wanted to see if there was anything they could do..."

"Maybe you should try out one of those simulators..."

"Those are ridiculous."

"What about those pit training weekends we read about?"

"I dunno-"

"It probably wouldn't hurt to at least have someone with experience in the pit-"

"I am _not_ hiring a new crew chief." He'd practically hissed.

She'd only watched him with a frown briefly before getting up from where she'd been sitting.

"That's not what I was suggesting. Don't start pushing us all away either."

He'd closed his eyes as she went to get ready, mentally kicking himself over that little exchange as well. Getting up, he followed after her and leaned against the wall as she stood in front of the over sized mirror, pinning her hair up.

"I'm sorry, Sal. I just...nothing's the same anymore."

She met his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, speaking around the bobbi pin she held in her teeth. "Times change, Stickers...sometimes we have to change with them."

"What if we don't want to?"

Placing the last hair pin in place, she turned around to face him fully. "Then we either make the best of it, or move on."

Lightning wrinkled his nose, attempting some levity despite the situation. "Well I don't like it."

"No one said you had to." She gave him a quick kiss and turned him around, herding him toward the door. "Go win us a 10th place."

"Very funny, Sal."

* * *

He normally liked night races, he liked the change in atmosphere, but anymore he was just getting tired.

"See you on the track, Champ."

Lightning felt his shoulders tense and his hands curl into fists as Storm passed him getting to his own pit space.

"Stickers."

He blinked and looked toward Sally, surprised to see her beside him. "Huh?"

"Stop letting him into your head."

"I'm not-"

"Please." She gave him a look. "You look like you're about to go slash his tires."

"Do I have time?" He asked, looking up at the clock.

She slapped his arm. "Stickers!"

He grinned and shrugged, reaching for his helmet. "What? Keeping up with the times, right?"

Once the race was underway he'd had one goal in mind. All he'd wanted out of this was to finish in the top ten, until of course Storm had shown up. He'd glared down the IGNTR logo for three laps before deciding 10th wouldn't be enough.

He wasn't expecting to not even finish the race.

The last thing he remembers is thinking that the track is not supposed to be _above him_.


	15. Little Racer

**AN: Veteran Racer will be continued, but I wanted to throw in some happy chapters before delving into that emotional roller coaster.**

* * *

"Daddy...Daddy _wait!_ "

He paused outside the doors of the racing museum, staring at his own reflection in the glass door for a moment with a smirk before turning around to see the little girl struggling with her stuffed cars.

"I told you to pick just one."

She looked up, blue eyes staring at him scandalized. "But Daddy they _all_ wanted to come."

"Oh right...my mistake."

Lightning unlocked the door and pushed it open, watching as she scooted past his leg with plush toys under each arm.

"Remember the rules."

"Yes, Daddy."

She shot through the lobby as he started turning lights on, muttering to himself over what 6 year old would be more interested in going through a racing museum she's already seen? As opposed to...well anything else really.

Catching up to her he wasn't that surprised to see that she'd lined up all the cars on one of the benches. Her dark ponytail bobbing as she hopped between the bench and the display case. Sally had been able to do her hair that morning before she left for work and he was extremely grateful, it always looked atrocious when he attempted it.

"We can't stay too long, remember."

"I know." She chirped, bouncing on her toes as she looked up at the pictures.

As soon as she'd been able to walk she'd been entranced with the museum, he'd never really understood why but he never denied her request to go through it. Even if it meant he had to search out the keys and open it up himself.

That building was a better babysitter than anyone he knew.

If she knew she was going to the museum she was sure to be on her best behavior. Like clockwork, she asked daily if he could either take her to the museum or the track. Lightning was tempted to buy stock in sunscreen, and tried to time their visits when the sun wasn't at it's highest.

She'd carry a bucket full of metal diecast cars and create her own miniature version of the track under the Butte. He remembers an afternoon where she'd been beside herself, unable to find her favorite car.

"It was here, Daddy, and I can't find it anywhere!"

"Did you go through all your cars?"

"Yes! It's gone!"

"Alright, alright-...which one is it?"

"The blue one! My best car is missing and now they can't race!"

"Calm down, Kiddo. We'll find it, I promise."

They'd walked back to the car and he suggested that it might have fallen under the seat. He'd nearly cracked his head open for as violently as he'd jumped at her shriek of delight.

"There! My blue car! Can you reach it?"

Lightning had rubbed the back of his head with a faint groan, nearly stuck under the passenger seat. "Where, honey. Daddy doesn't see it."

"Right there." He could see her little fingers pointing from her position in the back seat. Hidden next to the seat belt clip was a miniature version of The Hudson Hornet.

With some careful maneuvering, and nearly getting his arm stuck, Lightning had been able to free the two inch vehicle from its prison. She'd gone flying back to her handmade track, and he'd followed behind, checking his hand for blood.

"Gotta say it's my favorite too."

Luckily today they were in the air conditioning, and it was much harder to lose a stuffed toy than a Hotwheels car.

"I like this one." She looked back at him, pointing up to the display. "I like that thingy on the back."

"That's a spoiler." He commented, looking at the image of the Plymouth Superbird that The King had been known for. "It helps the car."

He didn't think a 6 year old would care much about reduced turbulence or drag.

"Granddad's didn't have one."

It always threw him off when she referred to Doc as _Granddad_ , she'd started that all on her own over a year ago and he'd never felt the need to tell her different. She knew they weren't blood related, but apparently she didn't care.

"No, his car didn't need it."

" 'Cause it was better."

"Well-" He laughed. "Yes and no-"

Her attention was drawn away from the conversation and she stood with her nose to the glass, little hands pressed up against the barrier. Lightning knew he'd have to find the Windex before they opened to the public again.

"Daddy, look." She waved him over, pressing a tiny finger over an image. "There he is."

Lightning's brow furrowed, he'd seen the image before, he'd chosen it himself for the display, but it was just an image of cars and racers at Thomasville, most likely before a race. With a frown, he looked to where she was pointing, and sure enough, in the background of the black and white image, was a much younger Doc and Smokey leaning against the inside wall.

"Huh...you got good eyes."

His attention was pulled away from the photos when he heard the doors open and saw Mater enter, fixing his hat and looking a little down with the heat.

"I was sent to remind ya's that you got company comin' this afternoon-"

Lightning glanced up at the clock and winced. "That's right-...sorry Mater, tell Sal we're on our way."

"Lucky you's didn't go out to the Butte today, would've probably ended up with heat stroke!"

Lightning smirked in agreement as his friend left, turning back to see his little girl still poring over photos.

"Jess."

No reaction.

"Jessica, we have to go. Remember who's coming?"

Her head spun toward him so fast he thought she'd get whiplash. "Aunt Cruz is coming!"

"That's right, gather up your toys so we can meet her in town..."

Jessica ran to the bench and scooped up the plush cars, waving to the display photos as she passed to catch up to her father.

"Can we go to the track tomorrow?"

"I dunno." He chuckled, locking the museum up. "Ask your aunt to take you when she gets here."


	16. Little Racer AU

**AN: I start back to work after a lengthy vacation tomorrow, so updates will definitely slow down, but I have to post this.**

 **This is an AU, but I want to keep it in this series.**

* * *

Doc read over the headline with little interest as he sat in the garage, everyone had disappeared during the heat of the day, except for those tourists who didn't know any better. He was hoping they wouldn't show up at the clinic.

What didn't people understand about heat warnings.

According to the extended forecast printed in the paper, it was expected to last a while.

With a sigh, he folded the paper over and tossed it on the desk and reached for the last letter he'd received from Thomasville, having every intention to respond before forgetting and then getting an earful the next time someone actually took the time to pick up a phone and call.

He raised a brow and glanced in the direction of the garage doors when he heard the creaking of a hinge but reached for his pen anyway. The tell tale shadow of little legs shuffling past the rear wheels of the Hudson were enough to tip him off.

Doc dated the top of the blank sheet before him. "I sure hope there're no trespassers sneaking into my garage."

He was answered by a muffled giggle as the figure crouched beside a tire.

Standing from his place at the desk, Doc started around the opposite side of the Hornet.

"You know what happens to trespassers?"

The giggling continued until she held her breath, trying to stay quiet.

Coming up behind the child he grabbed her around the middle. "They get thrown in the trunk!"

She shrieked and started giggling excitedly as he threw her over his shoulder. "No, Granddad, don't throw me in the trunk!"

"You're a trespasser, what else would I do with you?"

"Umm..." The little girl thought for a moment. "Let me go with a warning?"

Doc seemed to consider the idea for a moment before shaking his head. "No. No, it's the trunk for you."

She shrieked, giggling and squirming as he went for the trunk latch. Holding her upside down by the ankles, he commented idly. "You've lost a tooth."

"Yeah." She grinned, red faced from her position, revealing a gap in her front teeth. "This morning."

"How many is that now?"

"Four...pretty soon I'm gunna look like Miss Lizzy."

A surprised bark of laughter escaped him at that. "Your mom know you're here?"

"Yeah." She pointed out the garage doors. "She said to come straight over, and I could only come if I behaved."

Doc set her to rights and returned her to the dirt floor of the garage. "Well I guess the trunk isn't an option anymore, not if your mom knows you're here."

"I was supposed to ask if it was ok-"

He closed the trunk as she passed toward the desk. "You're always welcome here, Sweet Pea."

She climbed up and sat on his knee as he went back to his letter, but he was soon forced to put the correspondence aside after being constantly interrupted with questions.

"What's that?"

"That's a pit pass." He pulled the lanyard off the wall and handed it to her. "It lets me back where all the racers are during a race."

Jess put the lanyard around her neck and grinned widely at him before looking back up at the wall. Her expression sobered suddenly. "Is that you?"

He looked up at the framed newspaper clipping, thinking he should have had that taken down some time ago. The image of the dented and twisted frame of the Hornet that was currently parked behind them wasn't exactly something he should still be holding on to.

The little girl spoke again without him answering. "It looks bad...did it hurt?"

"Mmmhmm..." He hummed in acknowledgment, but nudged her attention away from the image. "But that was a long time ago."

Spinning the chair away from the desk he continued. "See? Car's good as new."

"You too?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "Me too."

She jumped to the floor and crouched in front of the grill. "It looks like it's smiling."

"Huh. If that car had a face I doubt it'd ever smile."

He watched her a few moments before grabbing the keys from the desk. He got up and opened the driver's side door. "Why don't we go for a drive."

* * *

"Don't tell your mom about this."

"What about Dad?"

Ye-...no, not him either, he'll tell your mom."

"Oh."

He'd let her crawl over into the driver's seat with him, and had actually offered to let her 'drive'. She wasn't really old enough to know the difference between steering a vehicle at 10mph and actually driving. Doc still had control of the gas, brake and clutch. All Jess had to do was keep it in a straight line or ease around the turn. It's wasn't like he couldn't take over at a moment's notice anyway.

They'd driven three laps without making it out of 2nd gear.

"I think this is the slowest we've ever gone around a dirt track." He smirked, putting a hand up on the wheel when she'd decided she'd had enough, huddling against him sleepily.

"Can we go fast?"

"Maybe another time."

He'd pulled up to The Cozy Cone to see both Sally and Lightning just within the lobby. Catching sight of the Hornet, Lightning had met him halfway to the door, taking the sleeping child from him.

"She wasn't too much trouble was she?"

"Of course not."

"I just know she can be a handful..."

" _You_ are a handful. She's like her mother."

"Wow, thanks."

"Anytime, Hot Rod."

Lightning glanced down at his daughter and took the lanyard that was still around her neck. "Here, you may need this."

Pretty soon she'll need one." Doc replied, sticking the ID in his back pocket.

"Not ready for that, yet."

He gave Lightning's shoulder a hearty pat before turning back toward the Hudson.

"It'll come sooner than you think."


	17. Veteran Racer 2

**AN: I'm back! That was sooner than I expected.**

* * *

Sally could only watch helplessly from their space on Pit Row as the ambulance swung out onto the track beside the battered #95. Lights on the response vehicles created a strobe effect across the track as all eyes were trained on the scene. She held her breath, tapping her phone nervously against her mouth before looking in all directions for an official, maybe they knew something she didn't, maybe they'd heard something over the radio.

She was startled to hear cheering and applause and glanced up at the screen in the infield to see Lightning had at least been able to get himself out. Pale and visibly shaken, he sat with his back against the pile of metal that was his car with a hand raised in acknowledgement to the crowd. He made eye contact with the camera, and Sally made eye contact with the screen.

An official did approach her then, and she listened in a daze as she watched the medical crews at work and the gurney brought out of the ambulance.

He'd said something about the name of the hospital, and that she'd be escorted with the ambulance.

She barely remembers getting to the hospital and she hadn't expected to wait this long to be able to see him. She'd finally told Mater he needed to sit down before he wore a hole in the floor. His pacing had finally gotten the better of her. Trying to find a comfortable position in those horrible hospital chairs she glanced down at Lightning's phone. She always held onto it for him during a race but she'd never expected to use it in a situation like this. His phone had barely stopped chiming.

Few of his friends from the racing world had her number and it was easier to keep everyone updated this way. She'd barely been able to keep up with the amount of texts, so instead opened a group message.

(12:54 AM) Lightning  
It's Sally, using Lightning's phone. Still in  
the waiting room, no word.

Jr (12:56 AM)  
Did they say anything when you left the  
track?

Swift (12:56 AM)  
Keep us posted.

(12:57 AM) Lightning  
They just told me what hospital we were  
going to and that he was stable.

Cal (12:57 AM)  
Thanks for keeping us updated Sally.

(1:32 AM) Lightning  
Nurse just talked to me. She said something  
about his blood pressure dropping when they  
were in the ambulance.

Swift (1:32 AM)  
They say anything else?

(1:32 AM) Lightning  
No

Flyboy (1:33 AM)  
They might be trying to prevent shock.

Sally blinked in surprise and glanced up at the clock, what time was it where _he_ was?

Jr (1:33 AM)  
?

Cal (1:33 AM)  
What does that mean?

 _Flyboy is typing..._

Sally stared at the three little dots for what felt like ages. Either Crophopper was typing out some insanely long explanation, or he was hesitating.

She hoped it was a book length explanation in the reasons and physiological changes that constituted shock.

Her heart stopped when the phone chimed.

Flyboy (1:49 AM)  
It just wouldn't be good.

(2:23 AM) Lightning  
They're letting me back. I'll let you all know  
when I can...

She placed the phone in her bag and left it with Mater, who'd decided he wasn't going to go back until he knew Lightning was ok but she didn't want any distractions at the moment.

Making it back to the room they'd told her, after a few wrong turns and then finally asking someone _where_ room 21 was, she peeked around the door frame to see a single bed and an exhausted Lightning McQueen staring dully at the white sheet that covered his legs.

"Stickers..." She murmured, still not entering the room.

He looked up and his eyes brightened considerably, but there was a shadow in his expression she couldn't quite place.

"Sally."

She finally did enter the room, looking him over as she rounded the bed and pulled the chair closer.

Scrapes and bruises she wasn't concerned about, and she was a little surprised to see some up around his eyes and hairline, wasn't that what the helmet was for? His arm was in a sling but there was no sign of a cast and his left leg was propped up with pillows. She looked back up at him questioningly, only just then noticing that they also had him on oxygen. The little tube ran under his nose, hooking over his ears.

"What'd they say...?"

"Dislocated my shoulder..." He gestured to his left arm. "Tore the ACL in my left knee...how I don't know..."

"That seems...minor..." She said in disbelief but very much relieved.

"You can barely move in those cars anymore..."

"The oxygen...?"

"I tanked in the ambulance." He looked at the IV that was in his hand as opposed to his elbow. "They blew out the vein trying to get the IV in my arm, and with everyone rushing around I guess I started going into shock-"

She reached for his good hand, careful of the IV and brushed her thumb over his wrist, watching him silently a moment.

"Everyone's worried."

"I'll be ok..."

Sally took a deep breath, studying his deadly white features and explained that everyone was in the waiting room, that she'd left his phone with Mater but if he was allowed to have it she'd get it for him.

"Just tell them I'll talk to them in the morning, they should get some sleep."

Her brows lowered, concerned with his response.

"It's after 3 AM, Sal...I'm tired, I'm sure they're all tired..."

"Right." She said dully. "I can go do that now?"

He shrugged his good shoulder and she stood, releasing his hand to walk around the end of the bed. She paused when he spoke, and looked back at him.

"I just...need a little bit...ok?"

He looked so _young_ reclined in that bed, the fluorescent lighting making him look even more pale and shadowing his eyes. His tired expression crumpled finally and his brows knit together, wiping a sudden tear away with the heel of his hand as his voice cracked.

"I wish Doc were here."

Her heart sank and she went back to his bedside, her own eyes filling with tears as she brushed her fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"I know, Stickers." She spoke softly as they hugged each other and just cried together.

An hour later, she was lying on the bed next to him. She wasn't sure that was permitted but she really didn't care.

"I just want to be able to talk to him..." He said, still teary eyed.

"He'd tell you to stop moping and start worrying about yourself." She was happy to hear at least a small laugh from him, even for as strained as it was.

She looked up at him from where she'd rested her head against his good shoulder. "You ok?"

Lightning hesitated, sighing finally.

"Yeah, Sal. I'm alright.

* * *

 **AN2: I'm going to be putting a playlist together for this series! If you have suggestions feel free to leave them in a review or PM me!**

 ** _Also_** , **I spent a _lot_** **of time driving the last three days and I get a lot of good ideas whenever I'm on the road for a good length of time. Most ideas were AU, so instead of bogging this fic down with tons of alternates that would make it hard to keep track of, I believe I'll be posting an entire new series that would be something along the lines of _Life's Highway Alternate Stories_ , be sure to watch out for it! **


	18. Veteran Racer 3

He'd gotten his phone from Sally before she left and had asked her to get a cab back to the hotel, or to find someone that had gotten at least some sleep and wasn't so mentally exhausted to get her there. He didn't want her driving right now.

He himself had gotten little sleep, the doctors had wanted him to have time to eat and sleep some before the procedure would be done on his leg. He knew he was in for a few months of physical therapy at the least, but what frustrated him more than that hurdle was that no one would explain this thing to him in terms he could understand. All he knew was they were taking something from somewhere in his leg and replacing the torn ACL band in the knee. He just wanted a simple explanation.

He wished Doc was there to interpret.

He wished Doc was there for a lot of reasons.

With a sigh he flipped through the few channels, staring up at the television mounted on the wall until he came across some morning talk show where he vaguely recognized the host. A glance toward the wall clock told him it was 7:50. He'd only slept for about an hour and a half.

He heard his own name spoken through the low volume speakers and looked back toward the screen to see the show host sitting with one of the rookies, he immediately reached for the remote again but couldn't find it in the thin hospital sheet.

" -is McQueen doing?"

"There's been no official statement. I mean, you never want to see that on the track, I just hope he's alright-"

Well, at least not all the newer guys were total-

There was the remote.

He flipped around a few more channels, deciding to completely ignore RSN and stared at the weather forecast that came up on The Weather Channel. Local On The 8's meant nothing to him, but it wasn't telling him what a failure he was either.

Lightning reached for his phone and started to sift through the massive amount of conversations in an attempt to declutter his messages. His eyes widened in fear, afraid he'd accidentally deleted that one conversation. He held his breath as he waited for the confirmation message to appear.

Undo UNDO _UNDO._

He huffed faintly, reading over the last few messages of his last text conversation with Doc to make sure it was all still there. Doc hated texting, so Lightning would send him the most random messages as often as he could. At first he'd always get a phone call in response. _Don't text me, use the phone and call. I have a phone number for a reason._

Over time he'd actually started to receive short or one word answers, and eventually had actual full conversations. Lightning had considered it a personal victory.

(7:56 AM)  
I wish I could talk to you now.

He wasn't surprised to see the failed message symbol appear beside his text but it hurt all the same.

His vision blurred and he hunkered back into the bed, propped in such a way as to make him more comfortable, and nearly curled in on himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to hold the tears back but failed in that aspect. A shuddering gasp escaped him and his chest felt like it was held in a vice grip as he battled to force back pain that had been buried for too long.

 _Why did you have to leave? I can't do this. I don't know what to do. You're the only one who'd UNDERSTAND._

Lightning finally decided his attempts were pointless and allowed himself to finally cry. He nearly threw the phone, but knowing he couldn't get up to retrieve it again was the only thing that kept it in his hand. The pain medications they had him on are killer, but they can't take care of what he's feeling now.

Lack of sleep, physical stress and emotional pain crash over him like a tidal wave and he does drop the phone if only to cover his eyes with his good hand. He wanted to scream but doubted the inhabitant of room #22 would appreciate that.

So he settled for crying until he no longer could.

Drying his eyes, which were now very sore, he breathed a shuddering sigh and reached for the phone again. The image on his lock screen didn't help either. His stock car beside the Hornet stared at him from behind the digital clock and weather widget.

He stared dazedly at the notification banner, he hadn't heard his phone go off.

Sally  
1 unread message

He unlocked the lock screen and swiped his thumb over the notification to open the message and his brows knit together. He really didn't want to cry again.

Sally (8:32 AM)  
We're all here for you. When you hurt, we hurt, and I know we'll never really understand the way Doc would have but you still have a team behind you. I know this is probably 100 times worse without him, but we all feel his absence too. We all care about you. I love you. Tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it.

He tried to come up with a response but paused.

 _Sally is typing..._

Sally (8:33 AM)  
I'll be there in an hour or so. They didn't give me a time for when your surgery was supposed to start.

He drummed his fingers on the back of the phone, thinking of how to respond.

(8:34 AM)  
Just be here, Sal. That's all I need.

Sally (8:34 AM)  
Always. See you in a bit...get some rest.

(8:34 AM)  
Love you

Sally (8:34 AM)  
Love you too.


	19. Jack Of All Trades

**AN: Shorty, but I'm going away for the weekend!**

* * *

He'd been a resident of Radiator Springs for maybe 8 months. He'd picked up the odd job here and there and had struck up a fairly good friendship with one of the head officers of the bustling little town.

"You've _got_ to keep an eye on the coolant levels in heat like this, Michael, or it'll get to a point that I can't even bring it back."

"What's the damage?"

Jesse gave him a deadpan look, head tilted, as smoke continued to rise up from the Mercury's engine.

"I'll give you a ride back to town. We'll have it towed back."

Officer Carwood slid into the passenger seat. "What do I owe you?"

"How about lunch at the café?"

It was his preferred method of payment for work at the moment. Might as well get a free meal.

There wasn't much money left when he was done paying for lodging. He needed to figure out something more permanent. He liked this town.

"That I can do."

They'd barely made it through the door when Flo stopped them short.

"He overheat again?"

"What makes you think that?" Jesse grinned.

"Because this's the third time this week he's bought you lunch."

"Maybe I'm feeling generous." Carwood cut in.

"Sure, honey." She replied before she gestured to Jesse. "You'll be taking care of those grease covered hands before sitting at one of my tables."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded with a smile.

Once clean of grease and dirt, Jesse slid into the booth across from his friend, rolling his sleeves up. He looked over to see Michael staring out the window.

"That's a nice car."

"Done me well."

"Hudson, right?"

"Yeah." It said so in about four different places.

"That's your last name too?"

"Yeah." He replied, glancing up briefly from the menu that Flo had set in front of him. He did a double take at the look he was being given.

"What?"

"It can wait."

Jesse leaned his elbows on the table, giving his full attention to a menu he didn't even need to see. His brow furrowed, preparing for an unwanted conversation. He'd expected to make it a little longer before anyone figured out who he was.

Both men in the booth jumped suddenly at a shout from the other side of the café. Looking toward the commotion, they could see a young woman had fainted flat out on the floor.

They jumped up at the same time. Jesse pushed himself up with a hand against the table. "This conversation's not over."

"Like I said. It can wait."

A crowd had formed quickly around the family that had been seated at the little table for four. An older woman was speaking frantically, Michael assumed it was the girl's mother.

"She said she wasn't feeling well- they'd been down at the track! I didn't think-"

"This ever happen before?" He asked while Jesse came up behind him, hissing lowly at the fact that no one was doing anything.

"No! Please-! Just-"

He yelled to Ramone to get over to the firehouse as quickly as possible, it'd be quicker than him trying to get all the way back to his car where the radio was. It also allowed him a chance to calm the woman that had a vice grip on his arm.

She fell silent and he looked toward her in confusion to see that her attention was trained back on her daughter. He looked in the direction she was staring and raised a brow before stepping away from the woman.

Jesse had knelt beside the girl, fingers over the pulse point on her wrist and his ear hovering over her mouth.

Michael knelt on the girl's other side.

"She's breathing, but they better get here..." Jesse commented as he looked at one of her eyes. Putting a hand behind her head, he looked toward Michael. "Get her on her side."

They maneuvered her carefully and stepped back as soon as those that were better qualified came through the side doors.

Michael didn't miss how quickly Jesse was out the front door. He followed after him doggedly.

"You see that a lot on a track?"

Jesse spun on his heel. "You wanna keep it down?"

"Just a question."

"I'm tired of questions."

"Sorry." He paused. "But did you?"

"Occasionally."

He saw it more often with family, though.

Silence fell over them and both looked up toward the windows in an attempt to see what was going on inside.

Jesse finally looked away and back toward his friend. "What was that about a track?"

* * *

They sat in the Hornet and stared out over the Butte. Jesse gripped the wheel briefly before dropping his hands and slouching in the driver's seat.

"You should take 'er around-"

"Wrong tires."

"Pity."

"Mmm..."

After a moment, Michael looked toward him. "You looked like you knew what you were doing back there."

"No. Not really."

"Could've fooled me."

"I have a general knowledge of a lot of things...picked up a lot along the way..."

Between trying to be there for his sister, and learning how to deal with his own injuries a few years later, he'd actually learned quite a bit.

"We need a doctor, you know."

Jesse laughed suddenly. "Could you imagine...no I don't think so."

"Just think about it."

"Yeah, ok."

* * *

The next time they crossed paths, Jesse had a book thrown in his face. He juggled it in one hand before pinning it to his chest and reading the cover.

"Oh, come on, Michael. I don't have time for this."

"What do you have time for?"

Jesse was silent, reading the subheadings.

"Just think about it. Read through it and see what you think."

Within two days Jesse had finished the book and was seriously considering the suggestion.


	20. New In Town

**AN: I should get around to writing different characters one of these days but in case anyone hasn't noticed, Doc is my favorite character, and when I'm hit with an idea I like I just run with it.**

* * *

It was possibly the worst place to end up with a flat tire.

Worse than the place he found himself in, was the fact that it had to be at least 3 AM.

He really didn't care what time it was, it was the fact that he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face, or that the only spare he had was one of the four dirt track tires in the trunk.

He couldn't change just _one_ tire. The whitewalls were a different size than the racers, if he was going to change _one_ he had to change _them all_.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me-" Jesse grumbled under his breath, swearing lowly as he dug around blindly for the jack stand.

He glanced around the Hornet when he saw headlights coming from the opposite direction before turning his attention back to the trunk of the car. He noticed the red flashing light go on at the same time he noticed the outline of one of Moon's old barrels of moonshine propped up against the wheel well.

Jesse hissed lowly, not two miles back he'd seen a sign proclaiming that whatever county this was, was a _dry county_.

He went to step back and smacked his head roughly on the trunk door.

"Ow-! _Son of a-!_ "

"You alright?" The officer asked as Jesse slammed the trunk shut just in time.

"Been better." He nearly growled with a wince. As if he hadn't dealt with enough hits to the head in the recent past.

Michael Carwood had drawn the short straw for third shift patrol that evening. He hadn't actually expected to come across someone.

"Where you headed?

"No idea."

"Well." He looked at the barely visible silhouette of the Hornet and gestured to his cruiser. "No use in messing with this now. I'll take you in to town. You can come back in the morning for the car."

Jesse hesitated, looking over the Hornet uncertainly, uneasy with the idea of leaving it in the middle of nowhere.

He sighed, a horrendous and throbbing headache setting in quickly. "Yeah...alright..."

Police cruisers were something he was used to _avoiding._

Michael turned the cruiser around and went back the direction he'd come from. "I'll make a call from the station and you should be able to stay at The Cone for a few hours at least."

Jesse was surprised to see how close he'd been to entering a town. A single light at the intersection illuminated different businesses and store fronts, the cruiser pulled up to the station front and the officer left him in the car. Jesse turned in the passenger seat in an attempt to see a sign indicating where he was but was left disappointed.

The driver's side door opened. "You're in luck. She wasn't real happy that I woke her up, but she's going to meet us at The Cone and get you a key."

Jesse obviously didn't know who _she_ was, but appreciated the effort.

He hadn't even realized the place was a hotel when they'd passed it the first time but with the lights on in the lobby he could see a young woman behind the desk.

She looked up, bleary eyed, as the men entered the building and blinked a few times before speaking.

"You're lucky I'm in for Vera, there's no way she would've come in this late...or early..."

"I know." Michael commented.

"Alright...what's available..." She commented to herself as she pulled a manila folder from the desk.

Jesse waited patiently, eyes squinting in confusion when she paused and looked toward the officer.

"I got it from here, Michael. Thank you."

"You're sure?"

It was obvious he was afraid to leave her alone with an unknown man at 2:50 in the morning.

"I can handle myself."

"If you say so." He threw up his hands as he turned to leave.

She waited until he had left the lobby before looking toward Jesse. "Sorry about that, he's leary of new people."

"Understandable." He commented in exhaustion. "It is a strange hour."

"We can do the paperwork now or wait till later?"

"Is it possible to do now?" He planned on sleeping the next twelve hours. He'd been driving much longer than he should have.

"Sure." She pulled a blank form from the folder and turned it toward him to fill out before getting him a pen.

"Then you'll just need to sign this one for me, Jesse." She continued as she added another form.

His face paled as he paused in filling out the form. He hadn't told her his name.

"Sorry?" He glanced up at her.

"You don't know who I am?"

He blinked. "Should I?"

"My brother was one of your biggest rivals in Piston. Well, he liked to think he was."

When she could tell he still didn't understand, she continued. "Alex."

"Alex-" He repeated, brows lowered. "Your brother is Alex? Alexander Piston?"

She nodded, smiling.

Alexander Piston considered himself the best thing since sliced bread and because he was a member of the Piston family, the biggest family behind the sport (hence the name _Piston Cup_ with the clever logo of a vehicle's piston) he'd held an unhealthy grudge against Jesse Hudson for years.

"You're-"

"Emily Piston." They said in unison.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" He asked, his attention going back to the form.

"Could ask you the same thing." She asked, but continued when he ignored her, reaching for a key.

"Mom has her own little restaurant a few doors down. Not nearly as big as the V8 but she didn't want anything too big. The _Mrs. Piston_? She's originally from this area and wanted something to occupy her time while Daddy's on the road promoting Piston Cup."

Jesse had stopped filling the form out, listening to her. "I've...never seen you...and how'd you end up here?" He tapped the counter with the pen, indicating that he meant the hotel at such an awful hour.

"I'm filling in for the owner while she visits her kids in Flagstaff."

"Ahh..." There was a brief silence. "I uh...I'm not interested in broadcasting-"

"That's why I waited until Michael left."

Jesse nodded in thanks, going back to the form.

"I followed your career, which drove Alex nuts."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, and I have to say you're better looking in person."

"Ah huh-" He stuttered in embarrassment, smiling as he rifled through his wallet for his license. "Thanks?"

She grinned at the blush that dusted the bridge of his nose and spread to the tips of his ears. "Pictures don't do your eyes justice, either."

"You're _extremely_ forward, you know that?"

She shrugged. "Tell it like I see it."

"I can appreciate that." He grinned.

She passed the key across the counter. "Number 6."

Jesse set the pen down before going for his wallet again. With a frown, he asked what the room would cost.

"I...don't have any cash." He checked his pockets. "Is there a bank in town? I can get to the bank when it opens and-"

"I'll cover it for now."

"I don't want to inconvenience-"

"I already have been. It's 3:20 AM."

"True."

"Don't worry about it." She reached for her purse under the desk.

Jesse watched her quietly, swinging the key chain of the room key on his finger. "I'll pay you as soon as I can..."

"I know you're good for it."

"Actually." He grinned and caught the key in the palm of his hand, stopping it from spinning on his finger abruptly. "Can I buy you a drink tomorrow evening?"

She hesitated in making change in the cash register and looked up at him. "Sure. I'd like that."

"Great. I'm gunna go sleep for ten hours."

* * *

He jumped and nearly fell off the bed when there was a knock at the door. Jesse had pulled the blackout curtains closed before falling asleep and just the strip of light under the door was enough to set the headache off again.

Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes before going to open the door. He leaned against the door frame and used his forearm to shield his eyes from the bright morning sunlight.

"Morning." Emily stood on the step with a plate of breakfast courtesy of the V8. Her chipperness offset his scowl.

"It has not been ten hours."

"No, but your car is gaining attention and I thought you'd want to get that taken care of."

He grabbed the bacon and a slice of toast from the plate she held before getting his shoes back on and starting down the road.

"You can take my car..."

She stopped him when he went for the passenger side.

"I don't know how to drive."

His brow furrowed. "But it's your car?"

"It's Daddy's actually, and he thinks driving is not meant for young women...women in general really."

Jess huffed as he switched sides with her. "Your family is really backwards you know that?"

Emily didn't reply, getting into the passenger seat.

She leaned against her father's car and straightened the wrinkles out of the skirt of her dress, watching as Jesse set the jack under the Hornet and set to work on changing the first of the four tires.

"Why do you have to change them all?"

He looked up at her, covered in dust. "Track tires are smaller, in diameter and width. The car won't be balanced."

"Is it even a mile, though? Would that hurt it that much?"

"I'd rather change them."

She rolled her eyes, racers were all the same.

"You want to use the garage behind the restaurant? At least until you've gotten different tires."

He paused and looked at her again, appreciative of the fact that someone else understood his wish for anonymity.

"Thanks."

She kept him company until all four tires were changed. Looking between the two vehicles parked on the shoulder of Route 66, she bit her lip. How would they get the second vehicle back?

Shoving all the tools back into the trunk, Jesse came around the back of the Hornet as she explained her dilemma.

"Well." He replied. "If you don't want anyone else getting involved, I can drive you back in my car and walk back out to get yours."

"You'd do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

She bit at her thumbnail and looked between the vehicles. "Ok...but I'll walk back out with you."

He raised a brow and shrugged. "Whatever you want."

She nodded and got into the car, grinning as he started it.

"Then after I get some more sleep, you can learn how to drive."

Oh, she hoped he would stay for a while.


	21. New In Town 2

**AN: In case anyone out there doesn't know. A _dry county_ is a county that prohibits the sales of alcohol. Some on premisis sale, some off premisis, and sometimes they prohibit both.**

* * *

Emily could tell this was the last thing he wanted to be doing as they started the two mile walk back to get her father's car. She'd let him park the Hornet behind her mother's restaurant and they started back down 66.

She had glanced at the clock before leaving the lobby of The Cozy Cone to pick up something to take him for breakfast. That had been before eight. She wasn't sure what time it was now, but it had taken a while to change four tires.

Jesse had slept four hours in two days, this was definitely the last thing he wanted to be doing. Forget the trip he'd planned to find the bank that afternoon, or the trip to that tire shop he'd noticed coming back with the Hornet, it could wait till tomorrow. He just desperately wanted sleep.

He stared at the ground as they walked, the last thing he'd expected was to end up somewhere like this. He'd been hoping to be in Nevada by now.

Sleeping.

The Hornet had different ideas, and had forcefully told him so.

Who would have thought the second person he'd run into in this place would have such a connection with Piston Cup.

He could only laugh.

"What's so funny?" Emily looked up toward him, squinting against the sunlight.

"Life."

She looked uncomfortable, eyes squinted nearly shut and she'd ditched her heels to walk barefoot in the sand of the shoulder of the road. Luckily it hadn't become too hot in the morning sun yet.

Jesse took his sunglasses off and held them out. "Here."

"Don't you need them?"

"I'll manage."

He already had a headache, what was some sunlight going to do.

"They look better on you anyway." He smirked.

Silence fell over the duo until she couldn't take it anymore.

"So what _are_ you doing all the way out here?"

Jesse looked away from the landscape and back toward her, hands in his pockets. He shrugged both shoulders. "Getting away from the East Coast."

"Permanently?"

"Don't know."

"You don't have a plan?"

He shook his head. "Trying something new."

"Couldn't you still be involved in Piston? I mean, I'm sure there'd be teams lining up to have you wearing their colors."

His sudden silence and the stiff set of his shoulders was enough answer for her.

"I'm sorry about what happened..."

"Yeah." He looked away, his pace changing ever so slightly. "Me too."

She could tell the conversation was over for the time being.

Finally making it to the '42 Cadillac, she held the keys out to Jesse, a little more at ease when he finally spoke again.

"Let me get this straight. Your father, Edward Piston, the most influential man in the sport, basically _created_ the sport, has two kids, one of which is the most pretentious and self absorbed individual I've ever met, and the other is you."

"So I've heard." She stood on the opposite side of the vehicle, watching him across the hood.

Emily had been to two fund raising banquets in her entire life, both to promote the up and coming sport of Piston Cup Racing. She'd heard more than enough through the grapevine, it wasn't exactly a vast community by any means. At least not yet.

She'd overheard drivers say they'd prefer to see her on the track as opposed to her brother. She'd nearly been titled The Princess of Piston, she was glad that one didn't stick.

"Why has he never taught you to drive?"

She huffed, shoulders rising and falling even as she considered him.

She'd never officially met Jesse Hudson until the early hours of that morning, but she certainly _knew_ who he was. Anyone even _remotely_ involved in the sport knew who Jesse Hudson was. She was having a hard time reconciling the country boy in front of her and the man that had been pointed out to her at the last fundraiser she'd attended.

Black tie dinners were more fun to dress up for than to actually attend. Her presence had been expected, and anyway, who was going to pass up a chance to see Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin? She'd been permitted a _plus 1_ but had neglected to bring anyone, she wanted to enjoy herself, not be chatted up all evening by someone who looked at her as an accessory.

She'd felt a sharp nudge to her side and looked toward her brother's fiance questioningly.

" _There_ he is." She'd gestured with her wine glass. " _That's_ who you need to introduce yourself to."

Emily had looked toward her future sister-in-law skeptically. "Are we not looking at the same person? He's with someone."

She'd gotten hit in the arm with the evening's program, Frank and Dean smiling from the playbill. "That's his _sister_. Do you ever go outside?"

It had been explained to her, that while not advertised or played upon, it was common knowledge that Ruth Hudson had been ill. The Hudson family was quiet and kept their personal business to themselves, but it was also common knowledge that Jesse Hudson held his family in the highest regards and did everything he could for them, especially Ruth. He protected his sister like she were glass.

She'd realized her mistake and had blushed, holding the program over her face as she spoke. "Wow, they really are twins, aren't they."

Looking down and reading over the cover of the program self consciously, she finally glanced up at her friend and fought back another blush, suggesting they get a decent table if they wanted to see Sinatra.

She'd sent flowers and a sympathy card a year later, and knew that the only reason Jesse hadn't won those three races in a row was because he hadn't attended.

Realizing he was still waiting for her to answer his question, she stuttered, shaking her head. "Ladies aren't supposed to drive. Or so he says."

Jesse rolled his eyes and got into the car, only speaking again once she was in the passenger seat.

"So how's he feel about Lou?"

"Who?"

"Louise Nash."

"Oh." Her eyes got big and he laughed at the face she made. "I thought he was going to shut the whole thing down when she went out there. He couldn't believe the audacity."

Jesse grinned widely. "Well he'd be real pleased with our involvement I bet."

"How so?"

Jesse glanced at her sidelong. "Friends and I were the ones to tell her where the numbers were."

She grinned, biting her lip. "I know nothing..."

They pulled around the back of the restaurant and she stiffened suddenly, recognizing the vehicle that had parked behind the Hornet. Jesse's comment upon seeing her brother didn't help either.

"This oughta be good." He threw the car in park and closed the door calmly once he'd gotten out.

Alexander Piston spun on his heel from where he'd been looking at the Hornet with disdain. He looked over Jesse briefly before addressing his sister.

"What the hell?"

She shrugged, still wearing Jesse's sunglasses.

"He was helping me."

"With what? Why did you have the car?" He looked toward Jesse. "And why were you driving it?"

"Because apparently she's not allowed to drive."

"What is _this_ doing here?" He pointed at the Hornet.

"What is wrong with you?" Emily asked, forgoing an answer.

"I don't want some _washed up-has been's_ junk car in my garage."

Jesse felt his teeth clamp together.

"Season's well under way, Hud." Alex continued and gestured in a mockingly solemn way. "I guess things just went downhill for you after your sister-"

"You better think long and hard before you finish that statement." Jesse cut him off.

 _Alex!_ "

"You gunna hide behind your sister your whole life?"

"What like you are now!" Jesse pointed between the two siblings.

Emily realized the only thing saving her brother from a broken nose and missing teeth was the fact that she was standing between the two of them. She was half tempted to call Michael.

" _Boys!_ " She held her hands up between them. "Enough."

"Here's your keys." Jesse ground through his teeth as he set the key ring in her hand.

"I've had enough conversation with ankle-biters." He turned away from the two, knowing that if he did stay longer, someone was going to end up very injured. He couldn't help but stop beside the door of the Hornet, though, making one last flippant remark. "I'd go back to the Chevy, Alex. That Thunderbird is too much for you."

"Like you'd know."

"Who has the titles?"

Emily bit the inside of her cheek, looking away in irritation as the Hornet backed out of the space it was in and pulled on to the little dirt alley that lead to the back entrance of The Cozy Cone.

Alex spun on his heel to glare at her once they were alone.

"What is he doing here?"

"I don't know. Just passing through."

"What the hell was he driving my car for."

"It isn't your car."

Alex stalked away from her, intent to get the Thunderbird in the garage. Emily watched with her arms crossed, eyeing the vehicle with irritation.

"He's right." She muttered. "That is too much car for you."

* * *

"How's the stray?"

"He isn't a cat, Flo." She smiled, though, sighing in a forced melodramatic manner as she slid on to the stool.

"I'm teasin', honey." She leaned against the counter. The lunch rush was over by now and she took advantage of the afternoon lull to start wrapping the silverware that had just been brought from the dishwasher.

"You look tired."

"I am tired." Emily reached into the container of silverware and grabbed a stack of napkins to start helping. "Alexander just got here."

"Just saw him." Flo nodded. "Thought there was a bee in his bonnet for as nasty as he was being."

"He uh...and _the stray_ as you like to call him, didn't have a good first meeting-"

"Oh?"

Emily shrugged, looking toward the oversized windows to the street. She'd have to catch her brother and tell him to keep his mouth shut. Then again, if she did ask, he may go and do just the opposite.

Hopefully he wasn't staying in town long.

"So the stray have a name?" Flo asked.

"Jesse."

She explained that the reason no one had seen this _mysterious visitor_ as everyone seemed to think he was, was because the poor thing barely had the energy to stand straight.

It was somewhat true.

She knew Michael had most likely told everyone, but probably embellished it as well.

"Tell him to come over for dinner, honey, on the house, sounds like he's had a rough time."

"I think he has..." Emily muttered.

* * *

Evening was drawing on before she got around to checking on him. She knocked on the door and turned the handle when she heard _it's open_.

Opening the door, she glanced about until she found him at the table under the window, staring across the street at the little abandoned building.

"What is that?" She gestured to the glass on the table.

He smirked, picking up the glass. "Junior Moon's Georgia Peach."

"That's moonshine!" She covered her mouth and looked over her shoulder outside before looking back at him, hissing. " _This is a dry county."_

He shrugged, setting the glass back down and looking back to the window. His brows lowered. "Been staring at this thing for an hour. What is it?"

She stepped over and stooped slightly to see at his line of vision. "Oh, there was a little clinic built. Only lasted about two years, they needed to be closer to the state hospital."

"It's falling apart."

She made an attempt at levity. "Kind of like you?"

He glanced up at her, expressionless, but she could see the sheen in his eyes.

Looking down, she realized there was barely anything in the glass in front of him. He was stone sober.

He was _homesick._

She pulled the adjoining chair out from the table and reached for another glass, plopping it down in front of him.

"Dry county." He grinned faintly.

"Oh well."

About an hour later, Carwood had stopped by, knocking on the door, only to be surprised when it pushed open. Looking around the corner, letting his eyes adjust to the lamplight he spied them still sitting at the table.

"I knew you were going to be a problem."

Jesse only held the glass out. "Best on the East Coast."

"Yeah...why the hell not." He tossed his hat on the table.


	22. New In Town 3

She watched as he crawled nearly under the Hornet, lying on his back to get the car jack situated in the right spot under the frame. She heard a soft grumbling and raised a brow, knowing exactly what it was but wanting him to admit to it.

"What was that?"

"My stomach." He replied, sliding out from under the car and reaching for the tire iron.

"When did you eat last?"

"Mmm-"

"Ok, _what_ did you eat last?"

"Bacon and toast-"

"Jesse, that was more than a day ago!" She frowned in concern.

"I can manage until my money is wired through." That was a lie, the bank had told him it would be closer to the beginning of next week before he could access any type of funds.

She'd noticed his attitude sliding downhill the last few days.

How stubborn was he.

"I can open a tab for you at mom's restaurant, and there's a hot meal waiting for you at the V8. On the house."

"I'm not living on handouts." He frowned, frustrated with the racing tire that refused to budge.

"They're not handouts. Believe it or not people around here care about your well being."

"They don't even know-"

"They don't have to." She laughed. "People around here just care. Let us help you."

"You can care about something, or someone, more than anything. Doesn't mean you can help them."

She wasn't expecting the conversation to take this kind of turn. "...You're very bitter."

She was surprised at how that seemed to set him off.

"I am bitter, Miss Piston." He stood abruptly and the tire iron clattered loudly on the rocky ground.

"I'm bitter because not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth, that you can _fight_ and _dig_ and give _everything_ you have to get to the top of the ladder just to find that there's someone there with a knife ready to cut the rope."

He didn't want to be there, the longer he lingered the more likely he'd get stuck there somehow.

The longer he stayed anywhere, the more he was reminded of home. He should have made a call back to Thomasville _months_ ago, but he wasn't ready for that conversation.

"I'm bitter because you can _care_. You can care so much you dedicate all your time and energy to something and it's never enough."

She took a deep breath, waiting for him to get this out of his system.

"You can care so much you think you'll be able to make things right, that you can do anything, that you can save- but they still-" He stopped suddenly, realizing he'd said more than he intended. He slapped the grease covered rag harshly on the trunk of the Hornet as he left.

"Yes. _I'm bitter._ "

She followed after him. "Don't run away."

"I am not running away." He hissed as he spun on his heel.

"Then what do you call this?"

He glared at her for a moment, his jaw set before turning away again. "Ending the conversation."

* * *

"I don't understand."

"Honey, men are all the same." Flo replied. "Fifty percent pride, fifty percent bullheaded."

"One hundred percent dumb."

"So ya do understand."

Emily gestured in helpless frustration.

"I don't know how to help ya, honey. Not if he's got his mind set on staying away from the rest of us."

"I'll think of something..."

Leaving the café, she wandered back out into the midafternoon sun. The elderly woman who ran The Cozy Cone had returned the day before, leaving Emily with nothing to fill her time with. She could always throw in for a shift at her mother's restaurant , but waitressing wasn't something she was keen on. She didn't exactly need the money either.

Princess of Piston and all that.

Alex had left the day before, which she was glad of. Jesse had asked her if her family lived in the bustling little town and she'd be blind if she didn't notice his relief when she'd told him no, Alex seldom went through and the only way to see her father lately was to travel back east.

"Just mom and I." She'd answered. "But mom's been traveling with Daddy lately."

Returning to the little apartment above the restaurant she sighed and thought back over the conversation behind The Cozy Cone. Jesse had refused to use the garage she'd offered since the confrontation with her brother.

She realized they were polar opposites, they'd never understand how the other had become the young adults they now were. Emily had twenty-one years of privilege behind her. She wasn't sure how old he was, but if his earlier tirade was anything to go by she'd never be able to relate.

Suddenly struck with an idea, she jumped back up to get her shoes back on and rushed out the door to go back to Flo's.

* * *

Jesse had recognized the polite knock and opened the door to stare at Emily sullenly. He glanced at the takeout container in her hands with a blank expression.

"Consider it payment."

"For what?"

"My first driving lesson."

He only hesitated briefly before taking the container and leaving her in the open doorway. She stepped into the room as he tossed the container on the table. He turned back toward her, and she was relieved to see a little of the same person who'd checked in to The Cozy Cone at 3AM four days ago.

"I need to apologize-"

She raised a brow.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did. You have nothing to do with-"

Looking up at him, she realized there really wasn't much difference in age between them. He couldn't be any older than twenty-five. Talk about growing up quickly. He was still grieving, whether he knew it or not.

"-not fair to you."

She only reached out and wrapped her arms around him in response, feeling his shoulders tense in surprise briefly. She wasn't surprised when he stepped back and brushed it aside, and she wondered idly how long he intended to shoulder all his burdens on his own. She also had to remind herself, though, that four days wasn't exactly long enough to make someone a confidante.

Once he'd eaten, Jesse sat slouched in the chair beside the table, poking holes in the lid of the takeout container with the fork.

"So what do you know about driving?"

"Gas is go, brake is stop."

"Oh boy..."

"What?" She asked with a smile.

He shook his head, standing and tossing the fork down. "We'll take your dad's car out."

"You mean I'm not driving the Hornet?"

He eyed her with a sarcastic expression. "I rebuilt that transmission a year ago, I'm not about to let you drop the clutch out of it."

"I don't know what that means."

"I rest my case."

He'd driven them out to the end of town and into the parking lot of the drive-in, he explained briefly before getting out to trade places with her.

"Always leave it in neutral if you're going to be getting out, but you'll have to have the parking brake set or your car will roll away."

"Why does it have to be in neutral?"

He shifted in to first, released the break and took his foot off the clutch, smirking at her startled reaction when the car jumped forward and stalled.

"I don't know if this is a good idea. What if I hurt Daddy's car?"

"You'll be fine."

"Then why didn't you want me to drive the Hornet?"

She didn't even know how to start it, and every time the Cadillac stalled she got more frustrated . Finally she was able to at least get to second, but she couldn't help but notice Jesse flinch every time a gear was missed.

"That's why."

"I'm never going to get this."

"It's only been an hour, you don't just jump into a car knowing how to drive."

"How long did it take you to learn?" She was proud of herself for remembering the parking brake when they stopped long enough to talk, though.

"Ss...six months?"

" _Six months?_ "

"Well only a few days to get the mechanics under control and keep the car running, but longer for competitive driving."

"But this part only took a few days?"

He nodded, "It's all timing. Hand, eye coordination."

"Will you show me?"

"Why don't we go back for the Hornet." It still had the dirt tires on.

"Sure." She went to open the door, pausing when he stopped her.

"But only if you drive us back."

She wanted to slap the smirk off his face.

She had a white knuckle grip on the wheel when they finally made it back and parked her father's car. She'd cheated a little, and Jesse had admonished her for letting the engine work so hard without shifting out of first.

"Fine, Hot Shot, let's see why you have all those trophies."

Emily was irritated at first with how smoothly that car shifted and accelerated.

She had to remind herself that he did hold those titles for a reason.


	23. New In Town 4

**AN: _Jack Of All Trades_ fits between _New In Town 3,_ and this. I came up with the ideas and wrote them out of order.**

* * *

Months passed and Emily was surprised that Jesse was even still around. He'd somehow become the unspoken handy man, whenever there was something that needed work or maintenance done, he was who nearly everyone turned to.

She was a strange kind of buffer between him and the rest of the town. After the first two weeks in Radiator Springs, he'd finally begun to allow himself to interact with the community. Emily wasn't sure if his hesitance had been because he'd expected to be recognized or if he'd been afraid of getting too comfortable.

It was most likely a mixture of the two.

Her knowledge of who he was and her own connection to Piston Cup offered a sense of familiarity. She'd been afraid to mention the sport and for the longest time pretended it didn't exist. She'd been surprised when he was the one to bring it up, asking if she'd heard anything about a number of racers. She figured it had to be the crew he was known to carouse with back east.

She hadn't at the time, but she'd made sure to find out before she saw him again.

Emily walked down the interior steps into the record rooms of the courthouse. Only a few lights had been turned on, and she was unfamiliar with the building in general, peeking around corners and trying to read the doors before making a decision as to which direction to go. She didn't like how her footsteps echoed in the silence.

Finally seeing an opened door at the end of one long hallway with the lights on, she quickened her pace and looked around the corner of the door frame to see Jesse digging through boxes of files and manila folders. He tossed one orange folder on to the table.

"Michael said you'd asked to be let in here." She glanced over the bookcases as she set her bag down. "What are you doing?"

"Looking up deeds." He glanced up at her before flipping through a stack of papers. How half the men in town could talk with a cigarette in their mouth she'd never know.

"And how's that going?"

"This is the biggest mess I've ever seen. Why is Carwood's marriage certificate mixed in with Flo's permit to sell food? Or why are there floor plans for the courthouse-" He sighed in frustration, scratching at the back of his head.

"I didn't realize you were so meticulous." She commented, sitting at the table and opening the cover of a folder to read over the first paper.

He wasn't listening, she could tell, and muttered to himself. "I thought Henry kept poor records for the garage..."

She wasn't sure who he was talking about but didn't ask for clarification.

"What do you need a deed for?"

"I'm applying for adverse possession."

She only blinked at him a few times.

"The property across from The Cozy Cone? It's abandoned, but there's an apartment and garage attached."

"Adverse possession is...?"

"It's cheaper to acquire land that's already developed but no one has been able to contact the original owners, so if I'm granted the application, I'd be made the caretaker of the property legally."

"Oh." She raised a brow, having no idea he'd truly been considered staying.

"Carburetor County must not be very big if this is the county seat."

"How do you know it's the county seat?"

He gestured above their heads in reference to the building they were standing in. "It's where the courthouse is, and it's a part-time courthouse at that..."

"Maybe you should get involved with law." She smirked.

"Please." He muttered, sliding folders back in to a box. "Between Michael telling me I should go to medical school-"

"He told me about that."

"And you, I'll be-" He paused, flipping a sheet around and looking it over quickly before slapping it with his hand. "Ha! It's been _five_ years, that's even better."

He set the thin paper aside and started putting the other folders away. He'd have to go back some other day to organize the place better.

"How do you know so much concerning law?" She asked.

"You learn more sometimes _avoiding_ things than by studying them."

"Speaking from experience?" She followed him back up the stairs and out the main doors.

"You interpret that however you see fit, dollface."

She hesitated briefly on the sidewalk as he crossed the street to where Michael's cruiser sat, hoping the afternoon sun could be to blame for her red face.

* * *

He was granted the application within a week, county officials would much rather hand a property off to someone than deal with an abandoned eyesore.

Jesse had gone straight to work, finding himself with a little more cash now that he wasn't paying weekly for a room at The Cone. The Hornet had been backed into the garage so he could unload the materials he'd gotten to start renovations.

"No more sittin' outside for you. You weren't used to that anyway were-"

"Are you talking to your car?" Emily asked.

He jumped, but luckily had gotten used to ducking when anywhere near the open trunk.

"Yeah, doesn't like it when I ignore it. Gets temperamental."

"Oh, kind of like you."

He only grumbled to himself in response, something about getting some no trespassing signs now that he had his own place.

"We're all meeting down at Flo's later. Everyone wanted to know if you'd be there."

"Uh-..." He eyed the cans of paint on the steps and the boards he'd leaned up near the door. "Yeah, hoping to get some of this started, but I should be over."

She ended up being the one that was late. It was surprisingly slow for a Friday night and Flo had taken the liberty of closing up early.

Emily waited at the door as she'd unlocked it, setting her things on the counter and looking toward the group in the back corner, hearing parts of the conversation.

"Why do you get to be the car _and_ the banker?"

"Hey why don't you be that snazzy lookin' iron there?"

"He found the game, man. You think we're gunna put you in charge of money?"

"I'm up for Sheriff's Deputy you know."

"All the more reason not to trust him."

The group all broke into surprised laughter.

"Yeah, it's all funny now, wait till you're all stuck behind bars." Michael joked.

"I'd bail you out, don't worry." Jesse replied, reaching for the dice.

Emily tilted her head as she came up to the booth. "Monopoly?"

"Can't really gamble when we're all broke." Ramone looked up.

Jesse paused in passing out fake money and those that were playing all came to the same conclusion at the same time.

Emily had never seen a board game get dumped back in the box so quickly.

She'd never seen such a cut throat game of cards over fake money either.

* * *

They'd walked back and sat on the back steps of the addition he was remodeling. She could tell he was pleased over the fact that he had a permanent residence. It wasn't the steps in to a room at The Cone. This was _his_ porch.

The sun had long since disappeared, but she could still make out the horizon and see fairly well.

"What was your sister like?"

She could tell the question had taken him off guard and as the silence lengthened she wasn't sure if he was going to respond.

He shifted and reached for his wallet, pulling a photo out and passing it to her.

"She was my best friend."

Emily took the photo, glancing at him briefly before looking at the image.

"Is it true, what they say about twins?"

He only shrugged. "I dunno. Siblings can probably be as close or as distant as they want."

She tilted the image toward the light on the back of the house in an attempt to see it better. It was maybe two or three years ago, the hood of the Hornet could just be seen at the bottom of the picture. Jesse stood in his racing jacket, squinting in the sun while Ruth stood behind him, a few steps higher as she hugged him around the neck from behind with her chin on his shoulder.

"She was shorter-"

"We weren't identical. She and I shared more traits than our older brother though. We took after our father and he took after mom."

"You have a brother?"

He only nodded.

She hesitated, staring at the image. "What was it that-"

"The only answer we were given was _disease of the lungs_." He replied dully. "They had no name for it."

He went on to explain that before his racing career, their mother and Ruth had fallen ill with the same symptoms. Ruth had pulled through while their mother had not.

Instinctively, Emily linked her arm with his, leaning against his shoulder. "What about your father?"

"Died in '44." Second World War.

"How old were you all when your mom-?"

"We were seventeen." He tapped the picture she still held with a finger. "Henry was twenty-two, he'd been out of the house for four years by then."

"How old are you now?"

"I turned twenty-five the week I came into town."

"You should've said-"

"I don't really celebrate birthdays anymore."

Oh, that explained his attitude those first few days after they'd met.

He went on to explain that their small inheritance had only gone so far, and with more hospital bills and doctor visits on the horizon, he'd signed up for a race in desperation. The flier had said the purse was five hundred dollars.

"We could make that go a long way."

They'd gotten themselves out of debt, made sure they would live comfortably and Jesse had set back enough money for a one way train ticket to Michigan to meet the big wigs at Hudson Motor Car Company.

"What would you have done if they said no?"

"Would've been a long walk to Georgia." It had been one of his bargaining chips though.

The Hudson family hadn't expected his career to explode the way it had, but all three siblings were grateful.

He hesitated before continuing. "Things were good. Ruth seemed to be on the mend, stronger than she had been in a while, but-"

Emily bit the inside of her cheek, unsure what to say.

"Fall of '53. There was what, maybe two months left of the season. Something happened...I've never driven as fast as I did getting us to the hospital."

He shrugged, and her eyes welled with tears.

"She was admitted and they treated her for weeks, but she never came home."

And then his wreck a year later...

Jesse glanced down, staring at the ground before looking up at her and murmuring. "Hey-"

He put his arms around her and her tears fell. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling ridiculous, she should be comforting him, not the other way around.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered.

She felt his arms tighten around her. "Don't cry, please."

Too late.

"If you cry, I'll cry."

Too late for that too, she could already tell.

She wasn't sure how long they sat together, but the light on the back of the partially demolished addition was the only reason she could see. Emily watched him and could tell his eyes were bloodshot, but she could also see the wheels were turning.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. "I'm gunna do it."

"Do what?"

"I'm going to medical school." He looked at her finally.

She could only study his features in the dim light, but the look on his face was enough to tell her he was serious.

She knew him well enough by now to know that when he said he was going to do something, he'd succeed without question.


	24. California

**AN: It's the early hours of my birthday...as if I didn't already feel old with my attachment to Pixar's Cars, I'm sitting here writing about talking vehicles...**

* * *

It was a stony silence for most of the trip from Radiator Springs to California. It hadn't been easy for Doc to swallow his pride and address the residents of town that morning. The last thing Sheriff had expected to see as they were all lined up at Flo's at their usual tables, was Doc Hudson enter wearing a pair of aviators and a decidedly flashy looking _racing_ jacket.

The kid had been right.

Within moments of the gruff apology and agreement to attend the race, the good people of Radiator Springs had jumped up and rushed to their perspective shops to gather whatever they thought they may need.

He'd hung back with Flo to finish his coffee, watching through the oversize windows with a look of amusement as Doc and Ramone stood beside the navy blue Hornet. As Doc ran a hand over the door panels Ramone nodded enthusiastically and gestured toward his shop. Michael huffed and finished the last of his coffee before standing. " 'bout time."

So now they were on the road. He'd opted to ride with Doc, not needing to add any more vehicles to their already strange caravan. In the rear view mirror he could see Mater's beaten truck, Ramone's Impala, and Fillmore's van. He could only imagine the animated conversation taking place with everyone cramped into the old Volks Wagon bus.

It had to be better than sitting in this Hornet.

Every comment he made received silence or one word answers. He knew better than to bring up a nearly fifty year old conversation now. Even the look he'd received on trying to tune the radio had been enough to get him to stop.

"How fast-"

"112, but that was Piston Certified then."

"...that means?"

"There's been some modifications since the '50's."

He fell silent once more, surprised he even got that much of an answer. He went back to watching their impromptu parade in the rear view mirror as they all took the ramp to the Los Angeles International Speedway.

Pulling up to one of the security gates, he waited silently and watched as Doc rolled the window down. A young man approached the door, with an obviously skeptical expression as he eyed the line of cars following the newly repainted Hornet.

"Can I help you with something?"

"We need to get back to pit row."

"Um- sir, the race has started and if you don't have a pit pass-"

"If the race has started then that's all the more reason to let us back there. We're 95's crew."

The kid stared slack jawed for a moment before regaining his senses. "You're kidding-"

"Serious as a heart attack, son." Doc glanced ahead and seemed to think of something. He steeled himself, his jaw set briefly before he looked back to the kid at the window. "Joe still around? He even still alive?"

"Joe-...? You mean Joe Moore?"

" _Yes_. Joe Moore."

"He's...well he's up in the press box-"

Doc leaned out the window. "Get on the phone and tell Mr. Moore that Jesse Hudson needs into pit row."

Sheriff watched the kid run off before glancing behind them where he could see their group all watching impatiently from their respective cars.

"You're gunna get us back there with just your name?"

"Don't know." Doc replied, still staring ahead before glancing toward him once. "Could get us kicked out too."

The kid ran back to the window, panting, and leaned against the frame of the Hornet to catch his breath. He waved a hand to get the attention of the men in the security booth and explained as the gate arm rose slowly. "I apologize, Mr. Hudson. You can all park in the 95 stalls, we'll bring pit passes shortly."

Doc nodded once, shifting into first and smiling widely. The kid's shocked reflection was mirrored in Doc's sunglasses as he thanked him and pulled through the security check point.

The crew piled out of their vehicles and looked about in awe, having never witnessed, or ever been involved in the culture of Piston Cup Racing. Doc's voice took on a different kind of authority than what it did in Radiator Springs. His stride was confident and purposeful as they followed, realizing he was their only buffer with this fast paced lifestyle.

"They're bringing us pit passes." He informed them as they traveled through the tunnel. "Don't get caught without it or they'll throw you out."

Back in the sunlight, he paused to take in the surroundings, looking either direction before spotting the Rust-eze logo. A thrill ran through him at the sounds coming from the track, the smell of new and burnt out tires piled behind the wall and the fuel cans lining the back of each pit. The 95 pit was empty, and he was disappointed that no one had stepped up until he caught site of the lone figure climbing down from the pit box.

"Need a hand?"

Mack looked over his shoulder sharply and let out a sigh of relief. "Wha-? Oh! Boy am I glad to see you guys. I can only do so much."

"Glad to be here. Now." He clapped his hands together and addressed the eager folk of Radiator Springs. "Let's get going-"

He quickly offered direction to everyone in a no nonsense tone. He went over the protocol of where tires were kept with Luigi and Guido, where to get more fuel with Sarge and Fillmore, and gave odd jobs to Mater.

Passing out the pit passes that had just been handed to him, he reminded them that they had to stay behind the wall at all times, and that only a select few could cross that line when Lightning came back for a stop.

Mack was happy to offer over the headset and Doc was silent as he clipped the battery pack to his belt and adjusted the mouth piece, keeping the mic off for the time being. He ignored the whispering he could hear from the surrounding pits as he climbed the ladder to the pit box and took in the track. The familiarity was frightening, the heat of the air rolling in off the pavement, the sun beating down, the smell of oil, sweat and gasoline, the sound of engines as they rounded the corner and drowned out the cheers of the fans as they passed. The thrill of adrenaline hadn't changed. In an instant he was back in it, even after being away so long.

He watched a few laps in silence, taking note of the other drivers just as much as he was the #95, it wasn't hard to pick up on the different styles when there were only three racing and he couldn't help by notice that Lightning was all over the place.

His brows lowered as the #86 cut Lightning off and he felt a twinge of panic when the red stock car fishtailed before regaining control. He vaguely heard Mack, who must have picked up one of the smaller headsets to check on the kid. Doc barely listened to whatever response was coming back before turning his own headset on.

"I didn't come all this way to see you quit."

There was a pause and he could feel the surprise over the channel. "Doc-?"

"I knew you needed a crew chief...but I didn't know it was this bad."


	25. California 2

It wasn't nearly as silent a ride coming _back_ from California, but then again, Sheriff was riding in the Impala this time.

The atmosphere in the Hornet was less tense as well, if only somewhat. Lightning drummed his hands on the ceiling above his position in the passenger seat, which earned him an incredulous look from Doc.

He was already wondering if he'd made the right decision.

The reactions of his eclectic family the evening before came back to him. Sally's hurt anger, Sheriff's look of reproach upon hearing he'd called the press, and Mater's soft _I didn't get to say goodbye to 'im..._

He'd been struck suddenly with thoughts of Thomasville at Mater's words. They'd never said goodbye either. He hadn't given them the chance.

So now he had some twenty-something punk playing with the radio of the one possession in life he really cared about.

Lightning rattled on and on over the ideas and plans he had for setting up in Radiator Springs, because, come on, they'd driven _that far_ for one race, right? They obviously all cared about him even if they'd only really known him for a week.

"If I get my headquarters set up there, business will come rolling in again and it'll be like it was in its hay day!

Well not exactly, there were a lot of differences, some very specific differences, but Doc allowed him to continue.

Lightning thought back to the race only hours earlier and his brows lowered in realization. He sat up somewhat from where he'd been leaning against the passenger door.

"Hold on..."

"What?"

"When you all showed up-"

Doc leaned forward ever so slightly, as if it would spur the kid onward to finish a thought.

"You said you knew I needed a crew chief."

Instead of replying, Doc reached for the pack of cigarettes on the dash. This was going to be a long drive.

The corner of Lightning's mouth turned up. "You knew I needed a crew chief!"

"Everyone knew you needed a crew chief."

"You're not _everyone._ " Lightning argued. "You're _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ , that disappeared off the face of the earth and wanted _nothing_ to do with Piston Cup anymore."

When there was no reply, he continued. "You knew who I was."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Lightning just stared at him a moment before looking out the front windshield. "Huh..."

Doc fought back the urge to roll his eyes. Couldn't they go back to silence? He'd take the constant change of radio stations over this.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm not even gracing that question with an answer."

"No, seriously. If you'd just _said-_ "

"And what? Have you laugh in my face like you did at the Butte?" He challenged, finally looking away from the road.

"I wouldn't have..."

"You keep thinking that Hot Rod. Without the _name,_ I was just another simpleton who didn't know what he was talking about."

Finally, silence.

He hadn't told Lightning who he was because of this exact reason, he knew _somehow_ he was going to get dragged back in to it. He'd dug his heels in and done everything possible to keep that from happening.

Look how well that succeeded.

"So-" Lightning started hesitantly. "Was this race like...a one time thing then-?"

"I dunno."

He already knew it wasn't, even after decades away from the sport, it had only taken that walk through the tunnel to make him feel at home again.

Over the next half hour, Lightning hesitantly brought up the headquarters once more, and suggested maybe even a small museum.

"I mean, I had kind of been planning on coming back after the race anyway, but it wasn't until the press showed up and Sally-"

"I called the press." He admitted.

"-and I were upset-..." Lightning trailed off and looked toward his new _not-_ crew chief in faint surprise that quickly turned to hurt.

"You called them?" He asked in a tone nearly identical to Sally's the night before.

"I called them." No more brushing things under the rug, not if the kid was sticking around for the foreseeable future.

He'd started following Piston Cup again in the early '60's, once the worst of the sting had faded and he was no longer as embittered to everyone and anyone involved. He'd kept up with Lou, Scott and Moon, had hoped to _maybe_ hear something concerning his older brother but at the same time had been afraid to.

He'd seen rotations of racers debut on the track and retire, hear his own name thrown out once in a while, but it always felt like they were talking about _someone else._ He was Doc Hudson, Jesse Hudson was a kid that Piston had left behind.

That wasn't his life anymore. It hadn't been for a long time.

So when he'd entered the court room, expecting to throw out some community service (and he'd been ready to lay it on thick after having to walk that morning.) There was no way he was going to drive the Hornet over that mess of pavement that would've ripped up the undercarriage of the car.

The sheepish and hesitant grin on McQueen's face when he'd stopped short in surprise had only dug him a deeper hole. He'd _heard_ the conversation beforehand and had known the kid wasn't the least bit sorry.

The arrogant rookie had reminded him of some very self entitled driver's he'd known in his own racing days. Looking back over the past week, he might have been a little too harsh.

Lightning stared out the front windshield, and the silence that followed was more pained than tense.

"I was too quick to judge you." Doc finally continued after a few moments, looking in the mirrors as they merged lanes on the highway.

Lightning looked away from the window and back toward him.

"I'd written you off." Kind of like the way he'd been written off some fifty years ago. "I should've paid more attention to what you were doing for the town."

What he'd been doing for its people...

"Well..." Lightning started. "We could always just chalk it up as a bad practice run-" He was surprised by the sudden grin on Doc's face. "First impressions aren't always accurate."

"True." Doc agreed.

Lightning smirked and held his hand out from where he was still slouched in the passenger seat. "Lightning McQueen. Nice to meet you."

Doc glanced at him once before reaching across the steering wheel. "Jesse Hudson."

"So what's this hunk of junk worth?" Lightning asked sarcastically.

"You better hope second impressions aren't accurate either."


	26. Envious

**AN: Super short! Too many ideas and not enough time in the day, especially when your tablet takes forever to recharge and you're typing on a little Samsung phone!**

* * *

If there was one thing Chick Hicks hated more than losing, it was sitting out of a race completely.

It wasn't even due to a penalty. The engine had blown out of the #86 during qualifying and they hadn't been able to get the back up car up to speed in time.

Piston generally turned a blind eye to his rough driving, but if the car couldn't even top 160, there was no way they'd allow him out there. So he found himself milling around the pits behind the scenes, he could have just packed it up and gone home, but watching a race on television and watching it from Pit Row were two different things. He realized vaguely that he kind of liked this behind the scenes atmosphere.

Race tracks were one of those strange places that if a driver wasn't suited up, they weren't immediately recognizable. He couldn't count the amount of Sunday mornings he'd walked past McQueen and had no idea it was the Rust-eze driver.

It was like The Twilight Zone. All he needed was Rod Serling standing in the background narrating.

So in a t-shirt and jeans he felt totally anonymous, of course a few people noticed him here or there but for the most part he was able to take in the actions on Pit Row without interruption. He'd found himself behind the #95 space, staring past the pit box out toward the track. McQueen had of course qualified well, hadn't gotten the pole position this time around but he was awfully close to the front.

Contrary to his own comments to the kid, he was intrigued by the unorthodox pit crew that took care of #95. While every other driver's crew had years of training under their belts, some even having gone to school for this, the only one remotely qualified for their position was McQueen's crew chief.

Of course that kid would disappear for a week and return with a Piston Legend.

Maybe he should get lost somewhere and see what happened.

Chick had gotten the snub quite a bit the seasons following the tie breaker race, he hadn't expected or even intended to send Strip's car flying end over end the way it had, that's just how the dice had rolled. He hadn't even bumped him that hard.

But when Piston chooses sides, _it chooses sides_.

Chick blinked a few times, realizing he'd zoned out and his eyes refocused in the pit stall ahead of him. It was nice for once to be back in the shade of the garages. The afternoon sun bleached out most of the crew's movements in blinding white as he heard a new round of tires being switched out on McQueen's car.

He'd always been envious of that little guy too, whatever his name was. Chick had never really been close enough to hear.

Knowing that it would now be awhile before McQueen returned, he stepped out toward the stall and looked up toward the pit box.

The kid's crew chief looked like he owned the place, jacket thrown over the back of the chair he was slouched in while his attention was turned briefly toward whoever else was sitting in the box with him. It was revealed to be McQueen's girlfriend as she leaned forward and opened the cooler that sat in front of the two.

Weren't they all just a cute little family.

"Psst- hey!" He hissed, standing on the far side of the pit box, just below the crew chief's chair and hoping none of the other crew members would notice him. "Hey Pops!"

Mirrored aviators had never been so intimidating.

Doc leaned out over the edge of the box. "Can I help you with something." There was a veiled threat in there, he'd be stupid not to hear it.

"Wanted to know-"

Doc straightened and put his attention back on the track, forcing Hicks to wait until he was done talking to the kid. He finally swiveled the mic of the headset up and away from his mouth and looked back down at Chick.

"Little busy right now, or does your chief usually take coffee breaks."

His knee jerk reaction was to say something smart, something insulting, but he bit back a retort even as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"Wanted to know if I could have a few minutes after the race."

He was only stared at for a moment, as if he was being sized up.

"I'll give you five." Doc leaned back into his chair and swiveled the mic back in front of his mouth. The conversation was over.


	27. Envious 2

McQueen had walked away with a second place finish that day. Chick was irritated over the fact that he had the nerve to smile as if he'd still won.

He found a little enjoyment in the look of confusion when McQueen noticed him lingering in the back of the garages, glancing sidelong in his direction while the crew started to pack it up for a long trip home. The confusion turned in to concern when the kid's crew chief passed him and then in to a glare in his own direction after whatever he'd been told, Chick wasn't close enough to hear.

 _"If I'm not back in five send a search party."_

 _"Why would you go missing-..."_

 _"I won't be the one that's missing."_

Chick offered a mock salute in McQueen's direction, if only to see him get more riled up.

They stopped between two trailers, it was probably the most secluded place on a track when he really thought about it, even with the commotion in the background of pit crews loading up their gear and backing the cars up the ramps. He cut right to the chase, no point in prolonging this, especially if he was really being held to five minutes.

"So what's your angle old man?"

Doc let his Zippo lighter close roughly and returned it to his shirt pocket, his back rested against the travel trailer he stood against. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Chick was irritated by the huff of amusement that escaped the man, and who the hell would be texting him?

Doc glanced at the time displayed across the top of the screen and the text notification before returning the phone to his pocket.

"The angle _kiddo_ -" and it wasn't the term he used for McQueen, that one word was filled with more condescension than he'd ever heard before. "At least around here is to run a winning team."

"McQueen was already doing pretty well before the side show started tagging along."

"Maybe."

"Or is this just some fallen-off-the-face-of-the-planet-Piston-Cup-celebrity trying to relive the glory days."

"Oh, you saw the _Enquirer_ article too."

Chick wanted _some_ kind of reaction out of McQueen's crew chief and realized he was the one getting fired up in this conversation.

He probably would have been tickled pink if he'd seen Doc's initial reaction to the tabloid's borderline slanderous article. Only a few people had been privy to that conversation, though, and Lightning would never betray the trust of his mentor that way.

"Well? Is that what this is?"

"I can't tell you what to think."

Doc raised a brow at the frustrated gesture of the #86 driver. He thought Lightning could be dramatic, he couldn't hold a candle to Chick.

"Can we stop with the cryptic answers?"

"Look." Doc finally stated seriously. "I know why I'm here, the team all knows why we're here and McQueen knows why he's here. Whatever the press, fans, other drivers or even the tender foot admins up in the press box _think_ they know about us doesn't really matter."

What mattered was the sound of those fans even while someone else had taken their victory lap and spun out under the crow's nest, the constant checking of their weather apps as the clouds had begun to roll in during the race, the way the track had gotten louder as the sounds of the engines reverberated through the stands and was held down by that cloud cover. It was in relearning the track once it had started to cool down when the sun disappeared, or that weird shower that had only covered turn four and sent everyone back to Pit Row for ten minutes. It was in the friendly banter between the Rust-eze and Dinoco pit crews when they were side by side in the pits, which eventually turned into serious but still friendly conversations between the crew chiefs over how well Cal was doing in his second year as the Dinoco driver.

There wasn't friendly banter in Chick's world, there were taunts and boastful jeering.

"Now." Doc continued as he field dressed the cigarette and tossed the end in the trash can against the garage wall behind the trucks. "Talk about cryptic. What is it you're really here to ask."

"You left for fifty years and came back to a welcoming committee."

"That's not a question, but yes."

"How."

Doc realized that was the closest he was going to get.

Chick wasn't keen on the look he was getting, and realized at the same moment that he probably should have gone to someone else. He hadn't thought this through very well.

Well he had, a little, the first option would've been Strip Weathers, but somehow that seemed like a bad idea.

The Fabulous Hudson Hornet was the only other retired driver still in the game, at least trackside and not in front of a camera.

Well, he was the only one that would keep his mouth shut he figured, but the look he was getting told him he hadn't played the cards well, McQueen's crew chief saw right through him.

Doc took a deep breath, both brows raised even as he looked down and replied to the text he'd just gotten, asking airily. "Making a career change then?"

"Maybe."

Doc glanced up at him once while still forming a response on the phone. "It's a yes or no question."

Yeah, he'd chosen the wrong retired driver.

This wasn't something he'd even mentioned to the crew, he doubted that would be a heart wrenching separation though. He rotated through crew members the way McQueen used to go through crew chiefs. His own crew chief was the only original member of his pit crew.

He could tell his time on the track was reaching an end, and he wasn't going to nurse it along and hope that some new tires and fuel injector was going to put him back on top.

Well, top three...

He'd gotten so wrapped up in the persona of being everyone's rival that he'd forgotten why he'd even started racing Piston in the first place.

He'd gotten a glimpse of it that afternoon standing behind the pits. He hadn't even been out on the track but had enjoyed the race more than he had in a long time.

 _A long time._

Like, since sending his image to an early grave at a tie breaker race, long time.

Chick had dug himself so deep into that image the press had once loved that he now needed a ladder to get out, and the only ones with ladders at the ready were those he usually mocked and ridiculed.

He didn't know which would be more painful, to end his driving career or actually ask for a ladder.

Chick realized he still hadn't answered and finally decided to just go with it. "Yeah, I think I am." His tone took on the cockiness he was more comfortable using. "Want to know what else Piston has to offer, you know."

Doc only eyed him knowingly for a brief moment before turning to leave, they'd passed the five minute mark. He had things to do. "Well don't expect your competitors to hold your hand."

There was more to that comment than Chick originally realized, looking back on it, maybe even a little of the veteran racer's own past bitterness

"Maybe you could ask Weathers. He's more recently retired than I am."

Wow, and Chick thought his sarcasm could sting...


	28. Pre-race Jitters

Jessica wasn't at an age anymore that she had to hound her parents to take her where she wanted to go. At the ripe old age of twenty, and a few hundred miles under her belt, she tended to just grab the keys on her way out the door with a quick kiss to either parent's cheek.

"Keep it under eighty."

"Your father's being stingy today, I was going to say a hundred." Sally commented as she'd leaned over the counter to kiss her daughter goodbye.

She was barely leaving town, she probably wouldn't break thirty-five.

"You'll need to be back before ten." Lightning watched her pause and turn around in the doorway, he'd never figure out how she had learned Doc's deadpan stare. "We're leaving at five tomorrow."

"I know. 'm only going to the Butte. You can stand outside and yell for me if I'm not back by then." She grinned and waved as she closed the door behind her.

The sun was low in the sky as late afternoon lengthened into evening and Jess took a moment to stare across the landscape surrounding the Butte before reaching into the back seat. It had been unusually chilly for the region that month, and she zippered up the Piston logo hoodie she'd purchased in Watkins Glen International some four years ago. She was not made for the weather in New York. She'd never expected to need it at home.

Grabbing her old beaten duffel, she closed the car door and picked her way down the bank's edge.

"My first official race is tomorrow..." She sat with her back to a flat faced section of the rock monolith that gave the track it's name. "I'm actually really nervous, but I don't want Dad to know. I can tell he's practically in panic mode already. Mom's taking this better than he is, and she's the one that used to panic at the Junior Racing tournaments."

She undid the draw string of the old military style bag and fished around blindly until finding what she was looking for. She placed the set of diecast cars in a row, some of them so beaten and worn that their color was no longer discernible. Their miniature tires sunk in to the soft dirt at her feet. She hoped no one else felt the need to visit the Butte, she'd look awfully silly playing with a bunch of old toy cars.

She wasn't playing, she was just lining them up. You know, for old time's sake.

"Tomorrow's the real deal..." She looked up and shielded her eyes against an evening sun so red she was reminded of that old maritime phrase.

 _Red sky in morning, sailor take warning-_

"Red sky at night, sailor's delight." She looked out toward the turn. "That could apply to driver's right?"

"Sure it can, let's just agree that it can." She bit her lip and continued. "I'm not even sure why I'm nervous, I've subbed before, it's not like I've _never_ been out there _._ "

The sponsor had never depended solely on her before, though, and she'd never had nearly as much say in decision making on the track as she would now. _Lightning McQueen's_ daughter was now an official Piston Cup driver, not just some cute kid that hung around Pit Row wearing her dad's baseball cap or sat with him in the pit box.

She wished she hadn't forgotten her phone, a call to Cruz would be nice right about now.

She settled for staring at the row of Hotwheels cars instead.

"It's just go karts on steroids, right."

She picked up the baby blue Plymouth Superbird and nodded her head as if she were talking to the car. "Right."

After a moment she turned the car over in her hands a few times and randomly remembered her own comment to her father some fourteen years ago.

 _I like that thingy on the back._

"When did I ever not like cars..." Her brows lowered and she set the superbird down to pick up another.

"This is the most mundane, one sided conversation ever, I apologize..."

She shifted and rested her shoulder against the flat stone. As she made her way down the line of cars she described each fear and hope for the season and future seasons.

"Cruz understood Dad wanting to be my crew chief, I think she even mentioned it before he got around to it. She hasn't been driving as much lately either. I think she's going to move back to training. I could be wrong though."

She shut up quickly and sat up at the sound of a vehicle on the ridge before she scooped up the cars when it finally appeared. With a huff she leaned back again but kept the toys near her side and out of sight. Tourists would have to butt in wouldn't they...

At least she wasn't quite a celebrity yet, and just looked like a local kid lazing about at the dirt track.

Maybe they would see there was someone there and leave their visit for another time.

She wrinkled her nose when she saw them taking selfies.

A cold chill ran through her and she leaned her shoulder in to the stone again, using it as a wind break as she looked back down at the cars to her left, protected between herself and the rock face. Picking up all of the _Hotwheels Certified Piston Models_ out of the collection, she held them in an open palm. The Plymouth Superbird, Rust-eze Stock Car, Hudson Hornet, Cruz's Dinoco Stock Car, and Jr's Earnhardt Inc. Stock Car all had made it through the years without coming to much harm. She'd taken good care of that set at least. Her focus was drawn away from the cars and toward the few people as they'd wandered down to the track.

So much for a private conversation to calm pre-race jitters.

She carefully returned the cars to the over sized green canvas bag but thought better of it and reached back in search of one in particular. There were two versions, but the one she had with her was the Hornet without its white lettering. She reached up beside her and set it on top of the plaque her father had put in place so many years ago.

"I wish you were here to see tomorrow."

She pushed herself up and dusted herself off before taking the sleeve of her hoodie and clearing the dirt and sand from the protected engraving in the carved rock she'd been sitting beside. It had been pretty windy lately.

Jess stared in silence a moment before shouldering the duffel bag. She was halfway to the car when she noticed the tourists again. She spun on her heel and walked back, snatching the Hotwheels model from where she'd left it. They could get their own from the museum's gift shop.

Her father had given her that and she didn't know which of them would be more upset to find out some tourist had walked off with it.

Pretty soon she'd be able to add her own stock car to the collection.


	29. Pre-race Jitters 2

Jess sat in the pits, unmoving as she felt someone settle beside her and put an arm over her shoulder.

"He can get grouchy over the radio, but somehow I think he'll take it easy on you."

She smirked and looked toward Cruz.

"Don't take my word for it, though."

She felt a strange surrealism settle over her, like today wasn't her first official race. She was still that pale little girl pictured sitting on her father's knee in the pit box, freckled face intent on the track in front of them.

She glanced in either direction before leaning in and muttering quietly. "You think I'm ready?"

Cruz leaned to the side to get a better look at her, brow raised in a skeptical expression. "You did not just ask me that."

She offered a closed mouth grin, looking back toward the track.

Her biggest fear was that Piston Cup was humoring her due to her name.

Cruz's voice was a low murmur, keeping the conversation private even in the bustling atmosphere of Pit Row. "I have watched you from the time you could walk. You've never once allowed a track of any kind to trip you up."

After a pause she continued. "Where's this coming from?"

"I guess the magnitude has settled in. This isn't the junior racing circuits..."

Most kids grew out of it, she'd only gotten more entrenched in the sport.

The racing suit was stiff, still heavily starched. She popped the button on the collar and unzipped the front in an attempt to relax in the afternoon heat. The old Rust-eze red and yellow logo on her t-shirt suddenly apparent against the black suit.

"You look sharp, Kiddo."

She glanced up and smiled. "Thanks, Daddy."

"Careful." Lightning warned sarcastically as he sat on her other side. "Anyone realizes we're related and they'll claim there's a conflict of interest."

"They wouldn't challenge Lightning McQueen..."

"You'd be surprised."

Cruz shook her head, leaning over to offer Jess a one armed hug before standing up. "I have to go meet up with family that wanted to come. I'm not used to the spectator side of this-"

"You could bring them back here." Lightning commented.

"It's loud enough back here as it is..." She shrugged a shoulder and looked toward their newest rookie knowingly. "I'll see you in the winner's circle."

"Ok." She grinned.

Silence fell over the father-daughter duo after Cruz had waved her goodbye. They both stared out toward the cars parked on Pit Row.

"You're thinking."

"Yeah."

"Are you over thinking?"

"Probably."

He stood and nudged her shoulder in a silent request to follow him and she did so without question, she couldn't think of a single moment in her life she hadn't listened to her father.

They made it to the travel trailer and Lightning opened the side access door, motioning for her to step inside before him.

Standing in the living quarters, Jess leaned her back against the dinette and watched idly as her mother was pulling waters out of the fridge to pack the cooler.

They'd taken to staying on the tracks when she was still elementary school age, it had allowed her to be home schooled and kept the family together when her father's demanding career forced them to spend so much time away from Radiator Springs. Then it had been put to good use when she had started racing junior circuits. The front half of the trailer was their living space while the back had still been more than large enough for her racing kart when she'd been a kid. Now it transported the stock car.

"What does the back of your suit say?"

"What?" She raised a brow and looked at him in confusion.

"Humor me, Sweetheart."

She hesitated. "...Hudson Motor Car Company..."

She'd been floored when she'd been approached by the up and coming brand. After decades of obscurity after being bought out in 1957, one lone descendant of the original family was bringing the name back, and what better way than to get involved with Piston Cup again? Granted their vehicles looked nothing like the makes of the 1950's and were more comparable to the modern Ford or Nissan, she'd jumped at the chance to be their driver.

She'd even been granted the opportunity to choose her own colors and number.

She'd hemmed and hawed for weeks, and both Lightning and Sally had nearly grown tired of the different combinations she had asked their opinions on.

Jess had finally settled on black and white, thinking it looked sharp and fairly retro, which was what the brand was going for.

Luckily no other driver had the #55. #51 and #95 were still somewhat in use, so she'd compromised.

"Exactly. Do you think they're going to put that name on anyone?"

"...No."

"Don't doubt yourself."

"But-" She took a deep breath and huffed, crossing her arms. "This sport is so _political_ , Daddy... _everyone_ is waiting to see if I make it or fall on my face."

"That's all part of it."

She realized that, but she didn't have to like it. Jessica set her mouth in a thin line and stared across the small space.

"We're not going to let you fall on your face." Sally had set the cooler down near the door and turned toward her daughter, brushing the girl's hair behind her ears the way she had when Jess was little. "If I didn't feel like you knew what you were doing, do you think I'd let you near that car?"

"No."

"You're going to be fine." She nodded before kissing her daughter's cheek. "And don't be afraid to finish somewhere other than first, this is your first race."

"Thanks."

"Of course, Sweetheart." She grabbed the cooler and commented before leaving the trailer. "I'd blame your father anyway, he's your crew chief."

"Woah- wait-" Lightning started.

"See you in the pits, Stickers." She grinned and let the door close behind her.

There was a long pause once Sally had left.

"She still calls you Stickers?" Jess had heard the story enough times.

"We're not talking about me."

She smirked and raised both brows once before becoming serious again.

"I don't want to let anyone down."

Lightning only regarded her quietly a moment before smiling faintly. Before him stood twenty years of birthdays, Christmases, countless retellings of how he'd shown up in the cutest little town in Carburetor County, scuffed knees, junior racing championships, long nights going over engines, sharing stories at the Butte, finally explaining that there was actually science behind a spoiler, and surprise when _she_ was the one to explain on her own what the 'step-down chassis' in a Hudson Hornet was.

"You could _never_ let anyone down."

"I just-"

"I know _you just-_ " He grinned, cutting her off and cupping her cheek with a hand when she started looking overwhelmed. "Look at me."

She blinked rapidly a few times and looked up at him.

"There's nothing you could do that would ever change our love for you. You're _our daughter._ We'll always be proud of you."

He hugged her tightly. "We all love you. You could decide you hated racing-"

She laughed. "Fat chance."

"-and go farm cows the rest of your life. No one would care." He stepped back and made a face. "Well maybe, but we'd still love you."

She grinned. "Thanks..."

"Any time, Kiddo."

They walked arm in arm back to Pit Row and he gave her an encouraging pat on the back before climbing up into the pit box. He nodded once at his wife's questioning look and she grinned as he sorted out the headset.

On the ground, Jess stood beside the black stock car and fished the ear piece from her pocket. She stiffened at the comment she heard over her shoulder.

"Awfully big name for such a little girl."

Alright, yeah, she was petite but really...

She glanced in the general direction of the statement and saw a few other drivers going for their gear. She was the only proper rookie that season but it was a fairly young generation coming up. Nick Wilson shook his head in a gesture of _it wasn't me_ and inclined his head toward the driver across from him.

"Excuse me?" Jess asked, pulling her hair back.

"Your sponsor chose poorly. Someone else should be driving for that name." The #71 driver clarified.

"Seth, lay off..." She heard Nick mutter.

"You're right. Someone else should." She replied while reaching for her gear. "But he's not here so I'll have to do my best."

"Your old man shouldn't have let you out here."

"I guess we'll find out won't we."

She'd never met Seth Harris officially before but she already knew how she felt about him.

She climbed in to the car and finished getting her helmet situated, instead of a regular radio check, her father immediately asked what had happened, she forgot he'd have eyes everywhere from up there.

"Nothing." She nearly snapped, fixing her glove.

"You ok?"

"Yeah. I want to smoke this field."


	30. Post Race Rivalry

**AN: It's been a rough day...but have some baby girl McQueen :)**

* * *

"Harris is _not_ happy with how this race went Jeff."

"Can you blame him. It's not how I'd want to start off a season. Especially after how well he started out last year."

Jess watched the commentary on her tablet, smirking at the screen as Darren Leadfoot and Jeff Gorvette began throwing stats numbers out and catching up the general public on how the first race was already setting the tone for the new season.

"-but McQueen though!"

Footage of the race was played while they continued with their commentary. Jess's stock car came around the turn alongside the yellow #35 before passing along the straightaway and finishing half a car length ahead. The image had gone to Pit Row showing the reactions of the crew. Jess smiled widely at the way her father had jumped up, leaning out over the edge of the pit box and how both her parents had realized she'd won at the same time.

"Nice to have the name back in the field."

"Isn't it? Don't get me wrong, Jeff, Lightning has made quite the impression through the years and proven he's just as capable in a pit box as he was behind the wheel, but seeing Jessica out there brings back memories of the early 2000's."

"Everyone needs to watch out for her. She's got everything going for her right out of the gate." She watched as Jeff counted off on his fingers as he made each point. "She's got the training, _incredible_ training if you really take the time to think about it, a great sponsor, the stamina, the car and a good team."

"I think her first season will definitely mirror that of her father's." Darren replied with a nod.

Maybe without all the bravado... She thought to herself as she turned the tablet off and set it aside.

She had her first official win under her belt. Jess grinned, moving to the edge of her bed in the trailer, her bare feet just grazing the floor. Her grin turned into a full smile as she pushed herself up, her face sore from how much she had been smiling that day.

She slipped her sandals on and was about to leave the trailer when she realized how chilly it was through the screen door. Grabbing her sweatshirt, her new sponsor licensed sweatshirt this time not the old Piston logo, she threw it on quickly and went to leave the trailer again.

She liked the black and white, and she liked how the new marketing team used the font from The Fabulous Hudson Hornet in their Piston licensed gear.

"Where're you headed?"

She looked to her left and realized her parents were sitting together under the awning of the trailer, the running lights just bright enough for her to see them both in the late evening darkness.

"I thought you'd gone to bed." She replied softly.

"Little early for that." Her mother commented. "We're not that old, Sweetheart."

"I didn't mean it that way." She stood in front of them, putting her hands in the pocket of her hoodie before she answered her father's original question. "I was just going for a walk."

"Make sure you've got-"

"My pass. I got it." She held the lanyard up from around her neck.

"Little late to be wandering the track isn't it?"

"It's not like I'm breaking in anywhere."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Daddy-" She tilted her head and nearly stomped her foot but stopped herself when she noticed the smirk on his face.

"Ow-"

Jess grinned when her mother came to her rescue and elbowed her father lightly in the ribs.

"That did not hurt."

"You don't know that."

"Alright, McCrybaby."

"Alright, love you, bye." Jess cut in quickly before turning to leave.

"You have your phone?"

"Yes, mom."

"Keep track of the time."

"I will." She grinned faintly, a chorus of 'congratulations on the race' from her parents being overpowered by the music through the headphones she'd just stuck in her ears.

"Thanks." She grinned widely again. "See you in a bit."

Jess wandered further through the infield for a while, weaving through campsites and past groups of people circled around fire rings. One group up ahead to the far right looked like they could be preparing for a brawl. Someone must have badmouthed the wrong driver.

Hopefully it wasn't her.

She reached up and clicked through the songs, why was it she could never be happy to just listen to a playlist on shuffle?

Jess glanced up and suddenly found herself on Pit Row. She gave up on trying to find _the right_ song and stood in front of her own pit space. The car had been loaded hours ago and all of their personal gear and tools were packed away. All that was left was the pit box.

She climbed up and looked out toward the track, noting how the cement stood out strangely in the darkness, she'd say it glowed but that didn't seem like the right word.

Jess sat in the crew chief's chair and propped her feet up on the safety bar. Only after a few attempts, though, she was rather short. She eventually had to settle on slouching with her knees bent. She scrolled through Twitter to see what was going on outside the world of Piston. She was distracted, though, and her attention fell on the Hotwheels cars she pulled from the hoodie pocket. She set them up on her knees before looking back at the phone.

"So now she wanders around race tracks in the dark."

He'd caught her between songs, luckily or unluckily enough.

Jess rolled her eyes. Honestly? She paused the music and glanced down in to the pit space.

"Speak for yourself."

"Stretching my legs. Seth shrugged. "Plus I wanted to see who was wandering around the pits."

"Don't you have any post race rituals?"

"Uh, no. That's a little strange."

"Well then you just don't get it."

"You haven't run enough races to _have_ a post race ritual."

"Maybe I'm starting a tradition." She turned her music up.

She figured he had moved on until she felt vibration through the floor of the box. He must have hit the side.

"What do you want?" She asked finally, pulling the headphones from her ears.

"I said congratulations."

She raised a brow. "Thanks?"

"Don't get used to it.

She shifted and the cars rested on her knees clattered to the floor.

"What was that?"

"Nothing! Why do you even care? Thanks, goodnight!" She leaned awkwardly to the side to retrieve the toys and her brows lowered, hissing. "Get off my pit box!"

He held on to the ladder, just barely able to see over the edge of the floor. Her phone lit up the space half decently. "Are those toys?"

"I have no problem kicking you in the face. Get _down!_ "

"Wonder how Twitter would feel about that."

"For as rude as you were earlier why are you suddenly so interested in what I'm doing?"

Her question was met with silence, and when he did finally answer his tone was that of their first meeting.

"Call me confused."

"Alright, Confused, what's your problem?"

"Dad jokes, seriously?"

"Shut up or answer my question."

"Demanding little thing aren't you." He grinned smugly.

"I will call security." Only after she punched him in the face.

"Go ahead. My father runs it on this track."

Of course he did. "I'll ask again. What do you want?"

"I want to know why you think you should be out here."

She inclined her head slightly, surprised and more than a little offended. "Why do you think you should?"

"Because I'm good at it."

"That answer's so shallow I can't get my feet wet."

She looked down at where he was still clinging to the ladder with disdain. If he only raced because _he was good at it_ then what did that really say about him?

He made a face at her comment before rolling his eyes and leaning forward. He wrapped his arms around the ladder and adopted a mockingly flirtatious expression. "It's cute how you think you're one of us."

"Didn't we already have this conversation?" Jess glanced at her phone, scrolling through her text messages and clicking on her father's last message, debating over whether to send a text or not.

"Just making sure the message is coming across."

She stood suddenly and crowded the ladder, threatening to step on his hands.

"Well you'll find I can be pretty thick headed when I want to be." She did start down the ladder then, forcing him to back down or have his fingers crushed. "I come from a line of hard headed people, _sweetheart_ , and I have a message for _you._ "

She poked him in the chest roughly and vaguely noticed that safety lights had finally come on along Pit Row. His expression never changed but she could tell he was surprised.

"I'm not going anywhere. You can taunt and belittle and try every underhanded trick in the book but this is _my_ sport. You might be good-" She smirked, turning his own expressions around on him. "But I'm _better._ "

"You don't belong out here." He repeated.

She brushed passed him, sending a text to her father even as she left. She commented over her shoulder as she did so. "You're going to need to come up with better insults."


	31. Post Race Rivalry 2

She was shaking and nearly in tears by the time she'd returned to the trailer. She wasn't used to confrontation, her entire life had been nothing but full bodied support from everyone she knew. Jess didn't know how to handle adversity. She'd made her remarks and left before she lost her nerve, cutting her time alone short. Instead of taking her time and enjoying the rest of her walk, she marched straight back to their site.

"Woah- woah, woah, woah...what happened?"

She'd been so intent on getting inside she hadn't realized her father was still sitting near the door and stopped short at the sound of his voice.

Lightning had stood quickly, already on edge with the text he'd gotten from her. Something had happened and her mood had plummeted from the smiles she'd left with. He'd seen her distress, even in the dark, and had stopped her from going through the door. "Are you alright-honey what's wrong?"

She only gestured in frustration toward the track. Her brows lowered and she tried not to start crying. If she'd made it inside she probably would have been able to just brush it aside and work it out herself, but her mother had always called her a daddy's girl and there was no brushing _anything_ aside whenever her father asked her for an explanation in circumstances like this. It was the same with her mother, but usually with fewer tears.

"Look at me-" When she continued to glare toward the track he sighed and wrapped her in a protective hug instead. She'd stopped growing around fifteen, it helped him forget that she wasn't a little girl anymore.

"I won this race. _I_ did-" She finally said pitifully.

"That's going to upset some people, Sweetheart..."

"You didn't deal with this."

"In part I did-" He kissed the top of her head and herded her toward the little double seat he and Sally had been sitting in earlier. Once seated he put an arm over her shoulder and let her lean in to him the way she used to when she was younger. "-but no, it's not the same as what you're going to deal with..."

She huffed and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"You wanna call Cruz?"

"Not right now."

"Ok...wanna talk to your mom?"

"I will in a little."

They sat in silence, she knew he was expecting an explanation but also that he wasn't going to push her on it either.

"You did fantastic, today."

The corner of her mouth turned up. "Thanks."

Silence fell over again for a few moments and she felt herself slowly relaxing.

"Who do I need to-"

"Oh, please don't." She muttered. "That would just add gas to the fire. I can't have you stepping in every time someone says something I don't like."

"What happened?"

"Harris doesn't think I should be out there and feels the need to slander-"

"Trash talk is part of-"

"He takes it too far."

"Mmm..."

"Why does he have to be like that? Everyone else was at least _civil_ even if I could tell some of them didn't care much for me."

"You scare him."

She snorted. "That's stupid."

"Don't believe me?" He held his phone out toward her, the screen lit up and displayed what he'd been scrolling through before she'd returned.

 _TRENDING: PISTONCUP MCQUEEN RSNSPORTS AUTORACING_

 _RacingFan: Harris71 Way to get shown up today. Last year was the best year you'll ever have. **#SorryBro #CareerOverB4ItBegan #PistonCup**_

 _PistonGeek: JesspeedMcQueen is going to own Piston Cup Series. Pack it up boys, the queen's reign starts now. **#mcQueenofPiston #JesspeedMcQueen #McQueen**_

 _mcQueenofPiston: PistonGeek I actually just used your post to create a new Twitter handle. Thanks! **#McQueen**_

"I want mcQueenofPiston..." She muttered with a faint smile.

"You have the real thing." He smirked, taking the phone back. "Because you're not just a fan sitting at a computer."

She grinned and agreed quietly. After a moment she realized he was watching her and looked back at him questioningly. "What?"

"I can't believe you're officially driving for Piston."

"You helped with all the contracts."

"I know." He chuckled. "I mean it feels like yesterday that I was chasing monsters from under your bed."

"They don't hide under the bed, they come through the closet."

"Oh right." He agreed airily. "What was yours named again?"

"Mike. I liked him though."

He blinked a few times. "That is oddly specific."

"Those dreams were oddly specific."

"You still have 'em?"

She shook her head. "Not since I was about twelve."

"Anyway-" He tried to get them back on topic. "You just keep doing what you do. You'll either shut up your critics or they'll make fools of themselves. Whichever comes first."

She took a deep breath and sighed lowly. "Ok..."

He wished he could do more, as her father he wanted to always see her happy. He never wanted her to experience pain or discomfort of any kind, whether it was emotionally or physically. He'd been forced to accept the fact, when Jess was still very young, that there were obstacles in her life that only she could fix. As desperately as he wanted to make her life perfect, it was just an insurmountable task. He couldn't do that for her, try as he might.

He still struggled with that at times.

How many times had he questioned himself over the years? Was he doing a good enough job? Was she always safe. Was she happy? Should he have given in and gotten that new fad item that she kept asking about? Was homeschooling the right answer. Did she know how much he loved her. Did she know how it ripped him apart inside to see her hurting over anything? Did she know how proud he was of all of her accomplishments?

She'd never know how he'd stay up at night worrying over her. How he used to fall asleep in her room after checking on her for the tenth time when she was barely two months old. She'd never know the excitement and fear that had battled for his attention when Sally had surprised him with the news that they would be parents or how he had so intensely mistrusted the doctors that he'd practically interviewed half the hospital before deciding on a pediatrician. She would never know how inadequate he felt ninety percent of the time and how the other ten percent was just him making it up as he went along.

She did know her love of auto racing came from obvious origins, having grown up in the sport. She did know her freckles (which were far less prominent now than they were when she was ten) came from her grandmother on his side. She knew her parents met because her father was once so obnoxiously full of himself that he'd gotten community service running a paving machine. That he'd spent hours trying to figure out how to make a left turn when he could've been finishing said community service. She knew where home was.

Lightning would have to settle for that.

"I'm gunna talk to mom."

He blinked a few times, drawn out of his revelry. "Alright, Sweetheart."

"Love you." She kissed his cheek quickly before getting up. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He watched her picking her way through the dark to the door. "Hey, Kiddo."

She paused and looked back at him from the set of steps.

"I'm proud of you."

Her smile returned and she thanked him quietly before disappearing inside.

* * *

 **AN:** **Mike Wazowski! :D**


	32. Star Struck

"You're really gunna meet him?"

"I don't know." Lightning glanced up at his fifteen year old daughter. "I have a brief cameo, it probably won't even be shooting the same day."

"But he'll be there."

"I _don't_ know, honey." He'd been silently dreading the days that she would reach this age. When she'd stop staring at him with star struck eyes and start noticing _boys._

She'd broadened her horizons, not by too much, but she wasn't always carting around Piston cars anymore. She wasn't always wearing her dirt track racer shirt. Jess had started throwing in the current pop culture movies and her current favorites were the Marvel superhero movies.

Lightning had been asked if he could do a cameo, along with Jr, Bobby, and Cal in some movie called Logan-...something or other. She didn't know.

What she did know, was that Sebastian Stan was supposed to be in it.

"But if you meet him can you get me his autograph? A picture!"

"I can try."

She went bouncing out of the room and down the hall to her mother's office, and Lightning could hear her humming excitedly as she left. He'd never expected _his_ Jessica to be so star struck over an actor. She was usually so level headed and reserved.

"Dad says he'll get a picture with 'im if he can."

Sally set her work aside and looked up at her daughter. The freckles across her nose had faded, she wasn't tall by any means, but she'd really grown a lot that summer.

She motioned for Jess to come closer and when the girl was within reach she wrapped her arms around her and pulled her onto the chair with her. "You know he might not meet him."

"Yeah..."

"It'd probably be easier to go straight to Twitter."

"I don't have one."

"We'll figure something out."

* * *

"If I don't find this guy, Jess probably won't speak to me for a week."

Jr watched him with an amused expression from where he sat under the over sized tent in the infield at Charlotte Motor Speedway. Their roles were easy. They didn't have to spend hours getting makeup and costumes ready, they'd brought their old racing suits and makeup came around to make sure they looked just right for the few minutes they'd be in this movie.

Lightning stood just outside the tent, squinting in either direction and looking back down at his phone.

"So she's how old now?"

"Fifteen. Well she'll be fifteen. Her birthday is next week."

"Thanks for reminding me. She'll be driving in a year."

"She's been driving."

"I mean with a real license on the road."

Lightning hesitated and looked up. Jr was right, and the idea of Jess driving on the highway was more frightening than if she were to take a stock car on to the track right now.

He shook his head and went back to figuring out how he was going to make this work.

* * *

"What are you watching?" Lightning asked when he returned home. He knew Jess wasn't going to be happy with him. He'd called ahead to break the news that he hadn't gotten a picture. He could tell she was disappointed but she didn't throw a temper tantrum.

He watched as she clicked through a few episodes on Netflix and tilted his head when some very familiar vehicles showed up in the thumbnail images.

"Jess what is this?"

"Cars-toons." She glanced up at him briefly. "It's based on Radiator Springs, remember? They made a whole huge show about it."

He vaguely remembered a few from when Jess was very young, but he had no idea Netflix had teamed up with that one animation company and then run with it.

"I thought they were just short movies?"

"No, it's a tv show now."

"Huh..." He set his luggage down and sat beside her on the couch, staring at the tv. "You like 'em?"

She nodded and looked at him. "Wanna watch my favorite?"

He nodded, staring at the logo and description beside the episode lists, animated versions of everyone's cars were lined up across the descriptions.

Jess clicked through the list and moved to lean back against her father and he automatically put his arm over her shoulder, still staring at the screen.

He read the title and description as the loading bar slowly moved up to 100%.

He suddenly remembered the hassle Sally had with copyright. They didn't change names, they didn't change the makes or models of cars. This cartoon was using real people and places. No one in Radiator Springs had a problem with it, it was just a lot of red tape to deal with during production.

 _Monster of Progress_

 _Lightning McQueen has come to stay in the sleepy little town of Radiator Springs. When the racing headquarters threatens to build too close to his friends' beloved landmarks, it's up to Lightning and the townsfolk to stop the dreaded machine of progress._

That had never happened, but he supposed it was a cute idea for a kid's show.

The opening theme was well done, a rendition of Life is a Highway with dizzying clips of cars racing, scenes from an animated version of town, and a phenomenal mock up of Flo's cafe. He nearly laughed out loud at the little forklift that was supposed to be Guido. Lightning was impressed, even if it took him a little to get past the idea that a red car with a face was supposed to be him. A logo looking somewhat like the V8 used on many cars flashed up on screen before fading to black and then fading back in to a scene of a dusty looking junk yard.

Boy did they have Mater to a T.

He watched with a slowly growing smile until the tow truck turned to the racecar.

"Why don't you go ask Doc? I mean he can fix just about anything."

They'd even animated the _Do Not Enter_ signs on the garage doors...

Lightning fought to bite back a pained smile.

How did animators put so much emotion in to a car?

What was worse, was if he closed his eyes he could imagine Doc was there in the room.

He took a deep breath and huffed, glancing down to see his daughter's eyes glued to the screen as the episode continued. Of course the big bad racing headquarters had to settle on building outside of town, everyone was happy again and the episode ended with a lead up to the next episode. The little blue porche deciding it was time to reopen The Wheel Well.

He was a grown man and he knew he'd end up binge watching a cartoon.

"That's really well done." He commented as it immediately rolled into the next episode.

"Yeah. I like them." She nodded and looked up at him.

"Hey...sorry I couldn't-"

"It's ok, Daddy. I'm sure kids act the same way about you."

That was a strange thought.

"I couldn't get a picture, but I was able to get this."

He pulled his phone from his pocket, clicked through the gallery and tapped on a video before handing her the phone.

She took it from him, looking at him with lowered brows before turning her attention to the screen.

Jr, Cal, Bobby, and Lightning all stood in their racing suits with their helmets on. Jess made a face, confusion evident when Jr flipped up the visor and started singing happy birthday.

They turned it in to a round, and every time they started over, the next driver in line popped up the visor.

When they reached the end, her father removed his helmet completely.

But it wasn't Lightning. It was Sebastian Stan.

He took the phone from who she guessed must have been Lightning. "I heard it's your birthday next week and that you didn't get to come out to the set, so I want to wish you the happiest of birthdays, Jessica. Eat lots of cake, or ice cream, or lots of both because it's your birthday and you do what you want. I'm sending an early birthday gift with your dad, but you can't open it till your birthday! Haha-"

The phone could only record so long, they'd found that out, unfortunately too late, but Jess looked like she was about to scream, so Lightning figured it was ok.

Her eyes were huge and her jaw had dropped, looking up at him before throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

She tore off down the hallway, screaming for Sally, with Lightning's phone in her hand.

He smirked and leaned back in the couch, grabbed the remote, and clicked back up to the very first episode on the list.

* * *

 **AN: Messed with some timelines on this but was struck with the idea after seeing a trailer for Logan Lucky. I've also heard Sebastian Stan is super friendly and loves his fans.**

 **Also, autocorrect is the enemy. I always find stupid typos _after_ I've posted.**


	33. We're Parents

**AN: I get really attatched to characters lol, especially characters I create.**

 **My phone randomly did a system reboot today...I lost a lot of brainstorming and partially written chapters. _Hard Enough Left_ took a real beating. I just sat there in shock when it said I had 0 memos saved.**

* * *

She feels her chair roll backwards from her desk at The Wheel Well and hands on her shoulders before he plants a kiss on her cheek.

"Hey, Stickers." She murmurs, eyes still on the screen in front of her.

"Time to go home."

"What?"

She finally looks up at him as best she can from her position, but pauses and sinks further in to the chair when he kneads the knots out of tensed muscles with his thumbs.

"We're going home."

"I have work to-"

"The twins will be covering both The Cone and The Well. You are eight and a half months pregnant." He rounded the chair and put an arm out to help her up. "Please don't overdo it."

She stared at the screen a moment then up at him with that silly grin on his face.

Ugh, hormones.

She'd normally just be appreciative, yes, touched to know that he cared but this pregnancy had been a roller coaster on her emotions and the littlest thing made her tear up. Sally blinked and nodded, pulling herself up with his help and allowing him to take them home.

She'd expected him to be a great father but she hadn't realized he'd be such a dutiful and caring husband.

From the moment she'd told him they would be parents he had become incredibly protective and supportive. It had surprised her somewhat, though she realized it really shouldn't have. She'd cried over those feelings of guilt too, she was really ready for this part to be over. Sally had watched a few of her friends back in L.A. go through pregnancies almost alone, the fathers having little or nothing to do with planning registries, reading up on what to expect or having much interest in the development process at all.

So when Lightning had asked what color she wanted him to paint the baby's room, she'd looked up from the baby's-R-us website and nearly burst in to tears.

They'd chosen a soft yellow, because they hadn't known if it was a boy or girl yet.

Doctors appointments had become day long affairs, seeing as they had to travel halfway to Flagstaff, and she knew his excitement was equally balanced with a sense of melancholy. There were fears he'd never voice to a total stranger even when they held the life of his little family in their hands.

They'd both cried the first time they heard a heartbeat over the monitor.

And when they found out _it_ was a _her._

She never got the chance for that cliche moment of reading through baby name booklets. They never sat together testing names out loud to see if a first and middle name sounded good together and rolled off the tongue or if it would be too many syllables and hard to pronounce.

The look on his face when he asked what she thought of Jessica, specifically _Jess_ for short had sold her, adding her mother's name had been his idea also and she'd fallen in love in an instant.

Jessica Lynne McQueen.

Sometimes the most perfect things really were that simple.

They'd spend hours discussing what they thought she'd be like. Who would she take after more? Would she someday have his height or her shorter stature? Would she get that faint curl his hair got after it reached a certain length or would it be straight like hers?

In the end it didn't matter. As long as there were ten fingers and ten toes they'd be happy.

* * *

Sally was grateful for her husband's foresight, because little miss Jessica had decided to come early.

She'd been afraid she'd broken his finger in the car, luckily it was only bruised.

Considering their daughter's early arrival, she'd been surprised when they were released with a clean bill of health after two days.

She'd spent sleepless nights trying to get comfortable during her pregnancy, now she spent sleepless nights trying to figure out how to keep a newborn happy.

At least they could tag team this part.

She woke with a start and reached for the clock on the nightstand. Three-thirty and she hadn't heard a sound? Was everything ok? Without waking her husband, she got up quickly and went to check on their daughter, but the soft lamplight coming from the room, and Lightning's quiet voice stopped her in the hall. She watched for a moment with a hand to her chest, glad she hadn't interrupted.

"I know you'll like him." He murmured to the half asleep newborn, kicking the rocker in to motion and checking to see what was left in the bottle he held. "He's a little silly sometimes but you get used to it. He's been calling you _Miss Jessica_ for months already."

"Everyone's so excited to meet you, Jess. Flo and Ramone already have a party planned, Red's got flowers he wants to put under your window for you, I can't even speak the language but I guess Guido's been asking about you just about every day. We're all just so happy you're here and healthy..."

He set the empty bottle aside and went back to studying her tiny little features.

"Doc would've adored you. Trust me, he'd play it down, but you would've gotten anything you wanted."

He looked at her little fingers wrapped around his own. "Kind of like you already have with me."

Sally watched as he stood and went to put her back in the crib before she retreated back to their room. She had just gotten comfortable when he returned and she could just see him by the light of the nightlight in the hallway. She whispered tiredly. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah." He kissed her cheek and she could hear his smile. "Everything's perfect."


	34. Vintage Grand Prix

**AN: I'm going to Watkins Glen in September to see the Vintage Grand Prix! I was literally there one week before the NASCAR race this summer. It was there the weekend of my birthday.**

* * *

Smokey wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting but he knew he was going to end up following this charity race much closer than he had been with Piston Cup.

And he'd been keeping up with Piston a lot lately.

His brother had never been one for long sit down interviews so he had wondered what it was the kid had done to get him to agree to one. They'd been corresponding less than a year through letters and had spoken on the phone three times. He still had a hard time filling in fifty years worth of gaps.

Why would he suddenly decide to get back on a track.

"It's a charity race." Lou had reminded him unnecessarily.

Right.

The St. Jude's Race for Children.

Jesse wouldn't turn down something to benefit sick kids.

It made the interview a little harder to watch.

After the end of the Official Piston Cup season it had been announced that there would be one more race, a little unorthodox and run with vintage cars from all racing circuits, but the reasoning behind it was worth the attention.

The front liners, at least from Piston Cup, were Strip Weathers and Jesse Hudson.

The living room had suddenly become the favorite meeting place of the old crew once more, minus a few key people, but if he focused hard enough on the screen it didn't feel so achingly familiar.

Extended family had forced him to keep up with the times, and the sharp image on the flat screen did nothing to ease the growing pressure between his ears.

RSN was holding their own impromptu press conference, he'd heard it mentioned briefly by Cartrip after last week's race and had hunted down the time it was meant to be aired.

TV guides were a thing of the past, too. Good thing he knew people who had a better handle on all this than he did.

The young woman in charge of the interview was newer to RSN and her nervousness was hidden carefully behind professionalism and enthusiasm. Smokey was surprised to realize it was a live feed and wished he'd thought far enough ahead to record it.

It would probably air another four or five times, though.

Their backdrop was Pit Row, the Superbird and Hornet conveniently parked behind the wall and five of those folding canvas chairs were positioned in front of the camera, one to the side for the interviewer, and four in a half circle in front of the cars. Because it was a live feed and the interview hadn't started yet, he was able to watch them unguarded. He watched his brother speaking to McQueen, wishing he could hear the conversation as the kid smiled widely before shaking his head.

He studied every nuance and gesture, as if he didn't quite believe the person wearing that jacket Ruth had made so long ago was really his younger brother, but the squared shoulders and overall confidant stance as he looked past the kid's shoulder and down Pit Row, or the way he leaned to the side and grinned when Weathers appeared and said something only loud enough for him to hear _screamed_ Jesse Hudson.

It kind of made him want to scream.

Because, really, how dare he disappear without a word and then become headline news and own the camera again after so long.

A ghost shouldn't have that much _presence._

He realized they'd gotten started, or were at least preparing to. Weathers and his nephew sat in the first two chairs while his brother and McQueen sat to the right. To the edge of the frame, Smokey could tell there were people crowding the edges of the roped off area taking pictures and video.

The very first question had him wondering how this was going to go. With the broadcast running live, he doubted they'd been told much of what the questions would entail.

He watched his brother's expression shift ever so subtly, most would consider it professionalism but he knew it was guarded offense over being questioned on why he'd left the sport and had disappeared for so long. He could tell if McQueen was holding a mic he'd be playing with it nervously, but of course they'd been given those little mic packs that clipped on to a collar.

The answer was vague and he wasn't surprised.

"She'll need to move on or she's going to lose this interview before it starts..." River commented lowly.

The attention shifted to Weathers and how he was enjoying retirement, at least from driving, and then to the new Dinoco driver and how he felt after his first season as the face of the biggest sponsor in Piston.

McQueen was finally brought in to the fold and the kid's smile was as charming as ever, minus the egotism, which made it much more warm and sincere.

"Before I ask anything, I want to congratulate you on your first Piston Cup."

The cheers from the crowd nearly over powered the kid's reply and the smile reminded him of his brother's first title. "Thanks. We worked hard this year."

He doesn't know what his brother muttered but it made McQueen laugh before continuing. "Yeah, ok, some of us did."

"Is that what hard work looks like?" Strip threw in, leaning out to see around the two seated between him and the kid. Their own banter took over for a few moments before the interviewer reeled them back in. Smokey was forced to grin at the raised brows and the _I guess we've been told_ expression on his brother's face.

The next question was more serious as she directed it back around to the race.

"What did it take Lightning to convince you to come back on to the track."

"There was no convincing."

"Oh?"

"I'd like to take credit, but can't on this one." McQueen cut in.

"It was Weathers who mentioned it actually."

The new Dinoco driver (Cal was it?) shifted in his seat. "I'd been to the children's hospital a few months ago to visit kids that were receiving treatment and felt the need to do something to help contribute."

"So you all jumped on board-" She lead.

None of them gathered in the living room were too surprised when _Hud_ spoke, because they didn't know _Doc._ "St. Jude's does good work-"

"You're a doctor, also, isn't that correct?"

He paused briefly before continuing. "I am. I've seen what illness can do to young people-"

Smokey felt his chest tighten.

"-and I've had to refer families to The Children's Hospital. They do great work in providing care for these kids that need help but they can't do it on their own either. It's a two million dollar price tag to keep them in operation for a single day."

The others had all nodded, there wasn't much you could add to that without sounding redundant.

She redirected, noticing movement behind the cameras. "Any pre-race nervousness going on?"

Both Hudson and Weathers looked toward each other and shook their heads, it was pretty old hat by now.

"He's never raced on pavement." McQueen muttered lowly with a smirk.

The interviewer took it and ran with it. "Wait, The Fabulous Hudson Hornet has never run on asphalt?"

"It'll be interesting." Was his brother's vague answer. He was grinning, though, so Smokey wasn't that concerned.

"So you'll be running with the Dinoco and Rust-eze pit crews-"

"That took some practice." Cal added. "They're used to stock cars, not these." He gestured over his shoulder with a thumb to the cars behind them.

"Well Dinoco is better practiced with the 'bird." McQueen countered.

"I'm sure." She continued. "Who will be running the pit spaces?"

"We're switching places so to speak." Strip answered as he gestured between himself and Cal.

"Your drivers are going to be your crew chiefs?"

McQueen's smile couldn't have gotten brighter.

"You're going to be The Fabulous Hudson Hornet's crew chief."

"That's the sum of it." He beamed.

Smokey could tell the others had all looked in his general direction subtly and he wasn't sure if he was impressed or offended that his brother would take orders from someone other than him.

"Well it's been a pleasure, gentlemen, and I wish I could keep you here longer but I'm seeing movement back behind the wall and-...now they're telling me the opening remarks are about to start."

The four stood, a little surprised at the sudden shift, as they thanked her and uncliped mics.

She turned toward the camera with a broad smile as a voice over from Cutlass cut into the scene.

"Sorry to cut this short, Kelly, but they didn't give us much time-"

"No it's alright, Bob. I'm sure everyone's more interested in getting on the track."

The camera went to Cartrip and Cutless in the studio space and Cartrip shook his head. "I don't think there could be a better cause to get all these drivers back out there, and what a beautiful day for a race."

"A beautiful day indeed, Darrell." Looking up at the camera, Cutlass continued. "I don't think I speak only for myself when I say the hype is building. Let's see how these youngsters do in taking over as crew chiefs, how some of these outside circuit drivers do amongst Piston Veterans and what I'm most interested in seeing-" He glanced once toward Cartrip and back at the camera.

"The Hudson Hornet off a dirt track. Stay tuned, the St. Jude's Race for Children is about to get underway."

There was an overview of the track, the usual music that played before commercials, and a few closeups of drivers and pit crews going over last minute preparations. The last image before it cut away was McQueen fixing his headset as he stood beside the Hornet and it's driver.

Everyone got up, knowing they had a few minutes to stretch their legs.

Lou stood in front of Smokey's chair and eyed him knowingly. He only glared at the television before huffing and getting up to go to the kitchen.

"Kid better not kill my brother."

"Hud obviously trusts him."

"And when has he proven to have good judgment recently?"

Lou only shook her head and went for another drink, because he really wasn't wrong. She huffed at a flustered Smokey she hadn't seen in decades. It was as if _he_ was the one with pre-race nervousness. She shared an amused look with River in the kitchen when Smokey closed the frig door with a little more force than necessary.

"Moon, did you bring any of that moonshine left over from last weekend!"


	35. Namesake AU

**AN: Another AU (which is sad, I don't like these being AU), but a request was made for Doc to meet Jess and I couldn't say no. I could have put this in _Life's Highway Alternate Stories_ but I didn't want to break up the Thomasville arc. So many plotlines going :/**

* * *

"It's a surprise."

"Well how are we supposed to be prepared if you won't tell us?" Mater had asked. Lightning had affectionately compared his friend's eagerness to that of a puppy whenever the topic of the baby came up.

"You know the purpose of a surprise, is that it's supposed to be a _surprise_ , Mater." He'd put the paint roller down and looked toward his friend as he resituated the painter's drop cloth and picked up the roll of tape. "I know if I tell one person it will end up all over town and ruin it."

Everyone in town had been ecstatic over the news that there would be a little McQueen added to the family. For months the couple had been showered with gifts, advice, offers to watch the little one when they needed to get away, more advice, baby clothes, lists of name ideas, constant questions on how Sally was feeling, were there updates on the baby and did they know if it was a boy or girl.

There were a few times they'd stayed a few hours (or days) with Doc, because it was quiet and even after so many years no one had the nerve to encroach in his space without permission.

"Will her name be Mater too."

"Sure, just like mine was when we first met."

Lightning held back a smirk and shook his head as his friend began taping off the trim around the windows.

"Can you believe tha' was six years ago?"

"No." Lightning started painting again. "Really can't..."

"I know'd we was gunna be best buds."

"I know you did, how I'll never figure out but-"

"Truck driver's intuition."

"Oh, ok." He shook his head, climbing back up the ladder.

He truly hoped the paint would dry before Sally was ready to come home. The last thing he wanted was for her to be forced to breathe paint fumes while eight months pregnant. If they really had to, he'd see if they could stay with someone in town at least overnight.

The two moved the furniture back into the nursery and Lightning set a box filled with decorations down near the rocker they'd purchased the month before. Mater glanced into the open lid and was just able to see a few large wooden letters piled on top of blankets and framed photos meant for a child's room.

"Hey, Lightnin'."

"Yeah."

"Say if we was to play hangman, and I was gunna choose the letters J an' S-"

Lightning realized where this was going and slammed the lid of the box shut before looking back at Mater. "And?"

There was a moment of tense silence before Mater shrugged. "I dunno, I got nothin'."

Lightning bit his lip to hide a smile before reaching for his phone as it began to ring. He'd barely been able to say hello before nearly dropping it with a flustered look.

"Yeah-yeah just hold on-" He'd motioned to Mater quickly. "I'm coming-"

* * *

His hand ached and Doc had told him to suck it up.

He'd complained numerous times that he didn't understand why they had to travel so far for appointments, especially when the baby arrived. Each answer had been a little less patient than before. Doc could only repeat himself so many times that the fact was he was a general practitioner. Sally and the baby needed a specialist.

"Then you can look at my hand."

"I'm looking at your hand." Doc had replied while standing in the waiting room. "And if you don't get back in that room it'll need a cast."

Lightning had been told it could be hours and he knew they'd gotten Sally as comfortable as possible. He was a little surprised and confused over the fact that she was sleeping. He thought it would be a lot of yelling and screaming. He'd disappeared down the hallway only after telling the others he would keep them updated.

Once every hour or so he would head back out to the waiting room, only to relate that there was no change, everyone was healthy but little girl McQueen was playing games with them.

"So she's like her daddy already." Had been the joking comment from Flo.

Lightning had taken the coffee handed to him by Sheriff with a faint grin before excusing himself again.

"He'll make a great daddy." She'd commented lowly once he'd left. The others had all nodded or commented quietly in agreement.

Hours passed with no change, Mater was reclined in the uncomfortable hospital chair as he slept. Now and then Doc would kick his foot in an attempt to get him to shift. He hadn't realized Mater had sleep apnea, though the awkward position in the chair could have something to do with that. He was finally forced to wake him up, he'd have to be tested when this was all over.

They'd all looked up to see an exhausted Lightning come down the hallway and watched him with anticipation.

He only shook his head. "Still nothing. Sally wanted me to let you all know you could go home, get some rest."

He was met, of course, with a chorus of protests but he shook his head and continued. "At least let me put you all up in the hotel down the block."

There was no sense sitting up in the waiting room even as the parents-to-be were sleeping through the night.

They finally seemed to agree on that and made their goodnights after Lightning had gotten off the phone. One by one they filed out of the waiting room, making sure he understood they expected a phone call should something change.

He only stared at the large doors with a tired smile once they'd left. He really had a great family.

"Hey."

He blinked and looked to the right to see Doc holding a cup of coffee out to him, and not just hospital coffee, but actual coffee from that gas station on the corner.

"That...was really fast..."

"Did make a living off it for a few years."

Lightning grinned in exhaustion and sank in to a chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He was glad Doc had stayed behind, he'd wanted him to but had been afraid to ask.

"Is this normal-"

Doc only waited for him to continue, knowing he'd clarify his thoughts in a moment.

"I mean. I'm terrified."

"That's normal."

Lightning glanced over his shoulder toward the only person he'd ever considered his father. The steady (yet tired) gaze directed back at him was comforting.

"What if I screw up."

"I'm sure you will."

Lightning straightened. "Wow, that's really comfort-"

"All parents mess up. No one's perfect, Hot Rod. She's not going to love you any less for it."

"What if she doesn't-"

"Love you?" He cut him off. "There's nothing you could do, aside from being neglectful, which you aren't capable of, that would cause that child not to love you."

He patted his hand roughly on Lightning's back before gripping his shoulder comfortingly. He might not have had experience in raising a child from infancy but he understood the terror in decision making, in whether he'd said or done the right thing in a given situation, and the kid he was dealing with was legally an adult.

He wasn't able to continue what he'd wanted to say because a nurse came through and told Lightning he needed to get back to the room, and quickly.

* * *

They watched the tiny little girl through the glass and Doc had to put a hand on Lightning's shoulder to hold him back when they did the heel prick test. He thought the kid was going to go through the glass.

"Why did they do that?" He'd asked with hard eyes, upset that they'd left his daughter crying.

"It's a blood screening. They're going to test for severe health conditions."

"They couldn't have done it another way?"

He'd shrugged. It was one of those tests that had been done the same way for decades.

If a little heel prick was going to get him that wound up, he was going to be an extremely protective father.

"Congratulations, Hot Rod." He muttered softly as they stood in the hallway.

Lightning glanced up at him with a shaky smile, overwhelmed already with how much he could care about another human being. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the nurse from earlier.

"Mr. McQueen? We'll be taking your daughter back to the room if you'd like to head back."

Doc had intended to part ways at the door but Lightning had other plans in mind. He'd checked on Sally, who was sleeping peacefully, and had asked if he could stay at least a moment after they'd brought the little girl back to the room.

Lightning had been told numerous times already that she was healthy but he wanted to hear it from Doc. Sitting together on one of the couches in the alcove just inside the door, he looked toward him with an expectant expression.

Doc had tried to explain that there was only so much he could tell by looking at her. She was pretty perfect, though. Her color was good, she'd already made sure those little lungs were clear, her eyes were bright and she already had a full head of dark hair.

She was sleeping unperturbed, nestled in Lightning's elbow, that in itself was a good sign.

"But what about-"

"She's fine."

"What if-"

"Do not start with the 'what ifs'-"

Lightning took a deep breath and nodded, looking down at the infant that had just passed the two hour old mark.

Doc looked up from over the kid's arm and around the room, his gaze falling on the little bed they move infants from one room to another on. From the angle he was at, he couldn't make out the initial, but he could tell the little label on the end didn't read _McQueen, Female._

"So you did name the poor girl." He said without looking away from the bed. From there it looked like the initial was an I? J? Maybe an L.

Lightning perked up considerably at that and nudged Doc's arm, silently asking him to take her. He didn't have a lot of experience with infants but it would be rude to decline.

"I haven't formally introduced you." Lightning beamed suddenly, his voice low. "I'd like you to meet Miss Jessica Lynne."

He'd been trying to pick out which parent she looked like more, even this early it was obvious she had her father's darker hair but aside from that it seemed too early to tell for anything else. He'd glanced up sharply, away from her face and toward Lightning. He couldn't have heard that correctly.

Lightning only grinned and nodded once in affirmation to his silent question.

He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd been struck speechless in his life. Three of them involving the kid sitting to his right. They didn't share a name, they weren't related, but they'd seen fit to name their own child after him?

There was a lot he had to be proud of, he'd taken it for granted through the years but not many people could say they'd accomplished half as much as he had, but he'd never expected to be looked upon as a father figure to some punk kid who would grow up and eventually name his own child after him. A crushing weight fell over his shoulders, not unfamiliar in that he'd never felt that way before, but in the past it had been pain caused by losing a loved one, having the door slammed in his face, rejection and loss of something or someone he cared about.

This time it was an overwhelming sense of belonging, purpose, realization that this tiny little life had more than just two parents to protect her. The girl wasn't more than a few hours old and she had an entire town waiting with bated breath to know that she was alright, that her parents were doing well.

They shared a name and he'd never been more honored to do so.

There was a threatening sting behind his eyes that he refused to allow to turn in to anything else. Doc Hudson couldn't cry, _wouldn't_ cry in front of the kid.

But Jesse Hudson could.

One side of his mouth turned up in an affectionate smile as little eyes opened, newborns weren't usually able to focus their eyes but she seemed to be able to at least take in her surroundings.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke. "Hello, Jess. It's nice to finally meet you."


	36. You're Not Scary

**AN: 200 reviews! I've never gotten such a response on any work before! I'm so glad to see that my work and crazy ideas are** **enjoyed!**

* * *

Jess sat up in her bed and stared across the room quietly. She pulled the little red plush car from beside her pillow and hugged it to her chest, resting her chin on it as she continued to stare at the door.

She'd been told she had a great imagination but she knew this was not something she was making up. She wasn't dreaming and she'd spend all night staring at that door to prove it. She'd waited, hoping her parents were asleep before turning on the little shepherdess lamp on her nightstand, and flooding the room with soft light. Her stake out had started nearly two hours ago.

She fought to keep her eyes open and would jerk awake every time they fluttered closed and she'd start to lean forward against the stuffed toy she held. Finally she heard the door knob click and sat up straight, half afraid that her door to the hallway would open and her mom or dad would yell at her for still being awake.

"Oh good, you're awake. That makes things easier."

Jess blinked a few times before hugging the car again. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to react.

"You're not scary-"

"Ohhhhh, it was established a _long_ time ago that I am not scary, kid."

"Does that bother you?"

"What's with the existentialism from a five year old?"

"Exe-...well does it? I was always told monsters were supposed to be scary."

"Touche, my dear." He conceded, jumping up on to her desk. "But lucky for me, laughter is much more powerful and I'm one of the funniest monsters around. So I win in the end."

She giggled, having no idea what he was talking about but she liked how fast he talked and how he looked like a little beach ball.

"I'm Jess."

He knew that, it was on the roster buried somewhere in with paperwork that he still hadn't filed. Her expectant expression forced him to introduce himself.

"Mike Wazowski."

She couldn't pronounce it and after the third time he cut her off.

"Let's just settle on Mike, shall we?"

She giggled again. It wasn't breaking any records with the can wranglers but he'd already met his quota for the night so he figured he could take a break. He plopped on to the edge of the desk and leaned an arm against the window sill. Usually there was at least an element of surprise when a child woke up so he was thrown from his usual routine. She seemed more intent on an actual conversation anyway.

"I knew I wasn't dreaming." She stated proudly and nodded once while picking at a loose thread on the Rust-eze plush. She suddenly remembered her mom telling her to be careful with it and stopped. It was special to Mommy so she had to make sure nothing happened to it. "I was gunna stay up _all_ night if I had to."

"Well you see there was a problem with the door, you got bumped down the list."

"-even though Daddy has a race tomorrow."

"A race huh? What kind of race."

"Cars. He's Aunt Cruz's crew chief, but sometimes he races too. Only sometimes, though."

"Oh yeah? I gotta car. I gotta really nice car."

"Daddy's is better."

"Oh I dunno-" Mike gestured dramatically. "It'd have to be really nice to beat mine."

"I know lots of cars that could beat your car." Jess challenged.

"You haven't even seen my car."

"I don't have to."

He made a face, impressed. "Gotta give you credit kid. Not many your age are so confident."

He couldn't count the amount of children that were too shy to utter a word. Some barely even cracked a grin.

Jess was startled by the sound of her colored pencils rolling off her desk as her door opened. She looked at her father with wide eyes.

"What are you doing up?" Lightning glanced about the room and back to where Jess was still on the bed. He could tell she'd never even been to sleep, she was too alert.

"Waiting for monsters..."

"Waiting for monsters." He repeated airily. She didn't seem distressed so he wasn't sure how to react. Stepping in to the room he sat on the edge of her bed.

"You need to sleep, Kiddo. I don't want you being crabby tomorrow."

"I won't be."

He raised a brow. "I dunno, you're the princess of crabby when you don't get your sleep. I wonder where you get it sometimes."

"I won't be." She repeated earnestly. "Even if I'm tired."

"Promise?" He held his hand out to make a pinky promise.

"Promise." She wrapped her tiny finger around his and giggled when he pulled her in to his arms and hugged her.

"You're getting so big. What's Daddy gunna do when he can't carry you anymore?"

"I dunno." She smiled.

"Neither do I." He kissed the top of her head. "You need to stop getting any older."

"But then I'll never learn to drive."

"That would be ok."

She pouted up at him before yawning and rubbing her eyes.

"I thought you weren't tired."

"I'm not."

"So argumentative." He huffed. "And only at five years old."

"What's arguman'ative?"

"Argumen _t_ ative, Sweetheart, and it just means you say the opposite of whatever I say."

"Oh."

He grinned at her. She really wasn't very big for her age. They'd been told she should go through a growth spurt soon but it hadn't happened yet. That was alright with him. If it meant there was still some time to cuddle her in his arms like this then so be it. Brushing her hair back from her forehead, he planted a kiss on her brow and turned to return her back to bed.

"No being crabby tomorrow."

"Yes, Daddy."

He tucked her in and turned the lamp off. "Goodnight, Kiddo."

"Goodnight, Daddy. Love you."

"I love you." He touched the end of her nose with a finger. "More than you know."

She smiled and turned on to her side, pulling the covers over her shoulder as he left.

Lightning turned to look at her once before closing the door. It would be interesting to see how tomorrow went.

Jess waited a few seconds before sitting up in the dark, seeing a little figure climb out of the clothes hamper.

"Well." Mike said, brushing invisible dirt from his arms. "That hasn't happened in a while."

"I have to sleep."

"So I heard."

She yawned again as she got comfortable. "Goodnight."

Boy, when the kid was done she was done.

He crept back to the closet door quietly and offered a quiet goodnight before disappearing.

* * *

"She keeps saying there're monsters."

"Huh." Cruz shrugged a shoulder. "If she doesn't seem upset then I wouldn't worry too much about it yet."

Their conversation ended abruptly as the little girl came flying down the hall.

"Aunt Cruz! Aunt Cruz!" She bounced to a stop in front of her. "Can you help me choose what to wear to the race today?"

"By choose, she means get it down from where it's hanging."

Cruz raised a brow at the explanation but was forced to turn her attention to the little girl. "I would _love_ to, Miss Jess. Lead on."

They weren't gone very long before Miss Speed McQueen returned in her bright yellow and blue Dinoco shirt, speaking so quickly Lightning had to concentrate on her words. "Mommy has to do my hair because Daddy can't."

"I can't braid." He shrugged.

"Or make a ponytail-"

"Jess." He frowned, he wasn't totally incapable.

"It's true, and Mommy says to never lie."

"That is something Mommy says." Sally appeared and rounded the girl up, hair brush and hairties in hand.

Lightning watched the pair leave before turning back to Cruz. "I told her she couldn't be crabby today."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He slapped her shoulder. "So don't lose this race."

* * *

 **AN2: I like throwing little references in here and there at times. The only one anyone has ever caught (or at least mentioned to me) is the Monsters Inc reference :)**


	37. Cars 3 AU

**AN: This was mentioned by** **PlatoOfAncientRome34 and I love the idea, its just going to take a while to figure out.**

* * *

"You gotta be kidding me. Him? Isn't there _anyone_ else I can work with?"

"There are, Mr. McQueen-"

 _Mr. McQueen_ , what was he, ancient?

"-but our best trainers are all very busy and can't exactly fit you in to their schedules. You're both traveling to Florida and-"

"That shouldn't be a deciding factor."

Sterling only eyed him briefly before continuing. Lightning was beginning to dislike the slick gray suit and perfectly styled hair.

"We believe to be back on top, you should work with those currently-" He hesitated and gestured helplessly, because this was fairly straight forward to him and he didn't understand why McQueen was so against it. "-you know, at the top."

Lightning stared from where he stood in the lobby of the new training center. He daydreamed of having those jars of dirt moved out to the museum in Arizona and telling Sterling to take a hike. Instead, he sighed and wished he had more time before the race in Florida.

"Fine. When will he be here."

"He already is."

Of course he was, because somehow that made sense. Now he really was in opposite world.

Lightning didn't like the look on Sterling's face but followed beside him anyway.

They passed large training rooms filled with treadmills and exercise equipment and walked beneath the large indoor simulators that he and Sally had read about. He still found them to be a little silly but the technology was impressive.

The halls were spotless, sterile and cool. He felt like he was in some sci-fi flick. If Darth Vader suddenly showed up around the corner he wouldn't be surprised. He was lost in his thoughts, suddenly wondering who he'd be in that universe because he felt like he was about to face the dark side.

Maybe he was being too dramatic.

No, he wasn't, because when they finally reached his new training partner in another room full of treadmills, wearing black and electric blue running gear, all he could think of was Kylo Ren.

But that would be black and red wouldn't it?

Whatever.

Jackson Storm shouldn't have looked so at home at the _Rust-eze_ training center. If Lightning wasn't already on edge over this whole idea before, he certainly was now as he watched the younger driver glance quickly at the overly technical fitbit on his wrist before grabbing his phone from the tray of the treadmill.

"Whatever happened to, I dunno, running outside?"

"This keeps track of heart rate, speed, distance run, calories burned-"

Lightning only huffed and looked sidelong toward Sterling. "How did athletes ever manage before..."

"I know, right? It must have been exhausting."

Lightning only narrowed his eyes briefly, considering him with a look of offense as Sterling stepped forward.

"Storm! Why don't you take a break?"

Everything about the kid screamed twenty-first century. How anyone could maintain perfectly styled hair during a workout, Lightning would never know but there he was, black hair styled just so, the latest phone on the treadmill that synced with his fitbit. The Beats by Dre headphones were a little much but somehow perfectly matched the IGNTR licensed workout gear he sported. Even the Nike running shoes sported the color scheme.

Lightning wondered vaguely if Doc felt this way seeing him in that courtroom so many years ago.

The kid was obnoxious, and he hadn't even spoken yet.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Sterling." He finally said in a honeyed politeness that won him the favor of the press as he brought the treadmill to a stop. Glancing up nonchalantly to the side he threw in a less polite _hey there, champ._

Lightning was going to need patience.

"Surprised to see you back so soon.".

"Well you know what they say, can't keep a good dog down."

"They also say you can't teach old dogs new tricks." Jackson smirked, clicking through the settings on the fitbit.

Before Lightning could get a word in, Sterling had an arm around his shoulder. "Well he's not too long in the tooth yet. You'll be working together before Florida."

That was apparently news to Storm and Lightning took a grim satisfaction at the look that briefly crossed his face before he schooled his features back in to that smug aloofness he was better known for.

He shot a look at Lightning. "Don't break a hip before Sunday, Champ."

So much patience...

"I look forward to seeing your progress Mr. McQueen." Sterling patted him on the shoulder before turning to leave.

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling." Lightning said with forced enthusiasm. "You won't be disappointed."

Jackson raised a brow and looked away from the glass door Sterling had just left through. "Oh, I think he will."

"You know." Lightning started, feeling the need to get a few things straight before they started. "Rivalry is one thing, but you really push it."

He wasn't sure if he was expecting a response but wasn't surprised when he didn't get one. Instead, Jackson put his attention on collecting his things. He threw the duffle over his shoulder before finally looking back at his new training partner. "Don't you have a senior's zumba class to get to?"

"No. I have a track to get to."

"You mean the simulator."

"I am _not_ training in a video game."

"Then where do you propose?"

* * *

Storm eyed the travel trailer with disinterest as the ramp lowered and the car backed down in to the sand. Without a word he slapped what almost looked like a tracking device over _the lucky sticker._

"Um, what do you think you're doing?"

"If you refuse to use the simulator, you'll use the tracker." Jackson held up another gadget. "Keep this on your dash, it tells you what the car's doing."

"I know what the car's doing."

"How many races you win last season?"

Lightning eyed him with a withering expression before snatching the device from his hand. "Fine."

He climbed in to the stock car that Jackson had scoffed at. Maybe the kid was right, maybe he should upgrade the car. What if that's all that was holding him back?

Why couldn't he have been put with someone else, he'd listen to any trainer, do any ridiculous stunt willingly if it meant he didn't have to work with Storm. Storm wasn't a trainer, why did Sterling think this was a good idea.

Lightning stared across the sand as the sun began to arc through the afternoon sky. It was a beautiful beach, he could easily picture a lazy day with Sally wading through the waves, collecting shells...

He could picture a field of vintage cars tearing through the sand.

He could actually see Jackson standing impatiently beside the trailer in his rear view mirror.

He hit the gas and started a weeks worth of training. It would be a long seven days.


	38. Cars 3 AU-2

He was going to rip those Ray-Bans right off the kid's face.

They had gotten _absolutely nowhere_ and he was sure Storm was dragging his feet on purpose. An entire day was gone, no chance of getting it back and he felt like he was worse off than when he had started. Less than a week until Florida and he wasn't even back up to his usual pace.

He was glad he had opted to call Sally early that morning as opposed to a Skype call. He could at least train his voice in to a more optimistic tone. He could barely hide the look of desperation from himself and he was sure Storm was loving it.

Lightning had underestimated her, though, again. Not five minutes in to their conversation and she was interrupting him.

"Stickers, be honest with me."

He'd paused, about to brush it off and say that _of course he was being honest with her, everything was going great, he'd be back in the winner's circle in no time._

Instead he stumbled a bit over his words, trying to think of how exactly to phrase it. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the sky, picking out random shapes in the clouds as he spoke. "I j- I dunno, Sal. I know I've said a million times how things just aren't the same but- maybe- maybe this is-"

Sally cut him off once more, her tone serious but sincere as she lowered her voice. "You know what I think you're missing?"

He huffed quietly, staring out at the waves and wishing she were there with him. He lowered his voice to match hers. "What am I missing?"

"Motivation."

"I've got plenty-"

"Just-" She interrupted him again. "Listen to me for a minute."

"Sorry."

"You can spend all day out there driving around in circles and looking at the numbers on the dash. You can figure out the science and the statistics and how much drag is affecting the car all day long but that's not what racing is to you."

"What is racing to me." He stopped in surprise as soon as he'd said it, blinking a few times at how ridiculous a question like that must have sounded coming from him. Had he actually just said that?

"I dunno, Stickers. What is racing to you?"

He was silent, holding the phone to his ear as he continued to watch the surf hit the rocks down near the pier. A little closer to where he stood was the IGNTR 2.0 driver. He must have been bored out of his mind. The last thing Lightning ever expected to witness was Jackson Storm throwing shells back in to the waves. It seemed too normal, or mundane, for him.

Sally's voice brought him back out of his revelry. "If your heart's not in this, then no amount of training will make up for it."

Lightning inhaled slowly through his nose, considering what she'd just said as he continued to look out over the water. "You're right..."

"Of course I am." She replied a little more enthusiastically than necessary. "I'm your lawyer."

He finally chuckled lowly at that, closing his eyes and running his free hand over his face. "Ok, change of plans."

* * *

"Are you really going all zen on me McQueen?"

"I'm not even sure what that means, so I'm going to go with a big ol' _no._ Just answer my question."

He shouldn't have gotten a sense of enjoyment out of how uncomfortable Storm looked sitting in the living quarters of his trailer. Lightning had only told Mack to drive, he wasn't even sure where they were other than that their destination was Florida.

Storm eyed the space with his usual haughty expression, sitting at the little dinette after forcefully turning down Lightning's offer of soda, coffee, or _whatever it is you next-gens drink_.

Maybe it was just too homey of a space for Storm, Lightning figured it wasn't sleek and high tech enough. It certainly couldn't be the abundance of family like photos Lightning had plastered all over the place.

His particular favorite had been one they'd emailed to Sally one year. He'd had to have it printed out and thrown on the paneled wall over the little sofa. He couldn't even remember what state it was, but after one of the races he and Mater had gone hiking in the local state park. They thought the staged image of him hanging on to the edge of the cliff face was hilarious.

Sally hadn't found it as funny.

Or maybe it was just the fact that there were multiple images of _that hillbilly town._ Lightning grinned faintly to himself over the fact that that had been _his_ name for it at one time.

He was staring at a candid photo of himself and Doc, neither of them looking toward the camera or even aware someone was nearby with a camera. He can't remember the conversation but he remembers the race and how rough it had been. There'd been trouble with the car the entire day but he'd still pulled it off. He thinks the photo must have been snapped during the brief rain shower. Drivers had actually had time to get out of their cars. He'd unzipped his suit, his hair was a mess and his expression was that of confusion, even as he listened to whatever Doc must have been telling him.

He was dragged from his thoughts when Storm finally came up with an answer.

"Racing is nothing-"

Ok that wasn't what he expected, but he had his attention.

"-and it's everything."

"Now who's going all zen..."

"You're the one who asked."

Lightning only stared briefly with a disinterested look before getting up to open the little fridge. Maybe he should try a different tactic. "Where are you from?"

The sudden shift in topic seemed to take Jackson off guard, he glanced over his shoulder toward Lightning with lowered brows in a _I see what you're trying to do_ manner.

When Lightning only looked back at him expectantly he shrugged a shoulder, yeah, why not humor him at least. "Maryland. Small town outside Baltimore."

"Get out. I'm originally from Annapolis. Lived there till I was about nine."

Jackson knew that, or some of that, but continued to watch him dully.

Lightning sighed, went back to his task of grabbing the glass Starbucks bottle from the fridge and slid back in to the dinette seat. "Look. I don't like this any more than you do, but we're stuck with each other for an entire week so could we _maybe_ just for a _few days_ drop the _I can't stand the sight of you_ act and act like normal, adult, human beings?"

He was a little surprised to see the corner of Jackson's mouth turn up in something other than a sarcastic, egotistical, grin.

"Sure, Champ. You got it."

Never mind...

He left the dinette and moved to the more comfortable sofa across the small quarters and took Storm's example of staring at his phone for the next hour and a half. Glancing up at one point, he noticed them pulling off in to a large rest stop beside other tractor trailers. Without a word to the other, he left the space once the truck was parked and let the door swing closed with a bang behind him.

"Hey, Mack."

Mack stopped short from his walk toward the rest area and turned to face him. "Hey Lightnin', how's it going with the ol' Storm Cloud back there?"

"Wonderful..." He glanced back toward the truck before looking back at Mack. "Hey, I wasn't paying real close attention to the exit signs, how far have we gotten?"

"Oh." Mack removed his Ruzt-eze hat and wiped his brow before returning it. "We're just along the edge of South Carolina, we'll be in Georgia tomorrow morning."


	39. Cars 3 AU-3

**AN: This arc is a lot of fun.**

* * *

He understood that they were done traveling for the day, or at least for the time being. Storm knew truck drivers could only drive so many hours before being off the road for a certain amount of time. So they were stuck at this truck stop for at least four hours. He was not going to be able to sit there that long. McQueen had apparently found something to bide his time.

Jackson only looked him over briefly before going back to his own devices. He flipped through the apps on his phone idly while glancing back up at the cover of the book McQueen was reading.

 _DRIVEN TO WIN: How Dirt Track Racers Shaped Piston Cup._

It was an image of vintage cars flying across a beach somewhere, down in the right hand corner there was a small blurb; _Forward By: Lightning McQueen_.

Huh...

He glanced back up to see him reading intently, his head rested against his free hand and he scratched at the side of his head before reaching forward to turn the page.

Storm had better things to do than sit around waiting for them to hit the road again. With a huff he stood from the dinette and went in search of his headphones. At least he could get a good run in. They may have been in the middle of Podunk Nowhere but he still had a schedule to keep.

Two miles down the road and he realized he'd forgotten his fitbit, he hadn't even been around McQueen a full two days and he was already losing it. With a frustrated sigh he stood holding his phone up in an attempt to get a decent signal as he downloaded the first running app he could find.

It was a surprisingly good run, better than he'd had in quite a while. Hills were something he was going to have to work on, that last one getting back to the truck stop hadn't been that steep but he'd hit the wall and his overall pace took a beating for it. That wasn't something he was used to.

Jackson would have to figure in some outdoor runs, who knew.

He was breathing a little heavier than usual as he came up to the trailer, hands braced on his sides. He ignored McQueen sitting outside the trailer but could tell he was on the phone and had apparently wanted a sense of privacy in the Skype call if the headphones were anything to go by. Not that he was interested in whatever conversation the Rust-eze driver would be having. It was hard not to overhear some comments, though, as he worked through his usual post run stretches.

"I dunno, what would you do?"

McQueen's huff of amusement had him a little curious and a quick glance at the screen showed him at least who McQueen was talking to.

That tow truck driver. How McQueen had patience for him, Jackson would never know. He ignored the rest of the conversation until Lightning stood up quickly.

"Mater you're a genius!"

Ok that was a stretch. Jackson rolled his eyes and went in to the trailer for a water. He stared out the windows at the gathering darkness, swigging from the water bottle and stretching his neck this way and that. He was definitely going to feel that run in the morning.

He nearly dropped the water bottle in surprise when McQueen burst in to the trailer, the door swung open and closed loudly. "I need to find Smokey."

Jackson juggled the half empty water bottle before staring at him darkly for a moment. "Smokey as in, _only you can prevent forest fires?_ Aren't you a little old for that? And what does that have to do with-"

Lightning groaned and grabbed the book he'd been reading from the shelf beside the sofa, flipping to the middle where there was a collection of images. He turned the book toward Storm quickly.

"No. _Smokey!_ Team owner and crew chief to The Fabulous Hudson Hornet."

Jackson hadn't seen the other move that quickly...well...ever, as Lightning hit the intercom for the truck cab and said something to the driver.

Jackson only continued to stand where he was with a look of faint shock as the other rushed about the trailer.

What...had he just missed?

* * *

"We're doing what..."

"Making a detour." Lightning commented as he dug through a cabinet in search of an atlas. He threw it on to the dinette table and climbed up in to the seat. "It's right along the way."

" _What_ is right along the way?"

Instead of replying immediately, Lightning grabbed the book he'd been reading and flipped to a page with an image of a track. "There."

"And there is...?"

" _Why_ are you so difficult?" Lightning rolled his eyes and pointed to the caption. _Thomasville Speedway._

He set the book aside and started flipping through the atlas.

"That's three hours out of the way." Jackson commented dully, staring at GoogleMaps.

"Well it's not like it's hurting you any is it? As long as you're in Florida by the end of the week."

Jackson leaned back in the dinette and let his back hit the cushion roughly. He knew this was going to be a trying week but he'd never expected a field trip.

He'd stopped enjoying field trips in ninth grade.

Like when McQueen was what...twenty-nine?

He had a track to get to, _in Florida._ Yet there he was, stuck with some washed up retiree attempting to relive the glory days. Jackson almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

He might as well humor him, allow McQueen his fun before the end of the week and reality set in. He was stuck in that truck anyway.

"You're right, it's not hurting me." He finally replied flippantly before turning his attention back to his phone and sifting through Google Play Books.


	40. Cars 3 AU-4

He'd never before heard hesitation in Storm's voice but there it was.

"This..." He stood with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "Better not be the track you're looking for..."

Storm was usually so confident, self assured to the point of aggravating. His body language had always been that of lazy boredom like he couldn't be bothered to put forward any more effort than he already was. Now though, Lightning noticed he was incredibly on edge. His back was ramrod straight and his feet planted shoulder width apart. He looked ready to bolt at any moment.

Lightning wasn't exactly comfortable either, he was only doing a better job of hiding it. Maybe that came with age.

No, experience. Life experience. That term at least made him feel better.

He had to agree with Storm on this one, though, and for once he wasn't afraid to openly admit to agreeing with the next-gen racer. This could _not_ be the track he was looking for. He knew that the early days of Piston Cup had been a whole different ball game, that drivers had to be tough, rowdy and unafraid of rough driving. While he could certainly see a younger Doc holding his own and certainly _leading_ the way when Piston Cup was first gaining its feet, but he could not place his mentor in a setting like this. Doc had always been too strategic, calculating and mindful, when it concerned the Hornet.

Thunder Hollow Speedway was no place for that.

He stood beside Jackson and they stared out at the activity surrounding the figure eight track.

Lightning looked down at the folded map page in his hands, brows lowered as he tried to see in the gathering darkness. "This isn't right-"

"You think?"

"-but Mack followed-..."

"Obviously there's something wrong with your map."

"It's from an atlas. It can't be wrong." He couldn't see them turning Thomasville Speedway in to this, though.

"I think it can!" Jackson gestured pointedly to their surroundings.

Wow he really was uncomfortable...

Lightning vaguely listened to the man up in a mock up 'press box' it looked more like a deer stand to him if he were being honest. He couldn't even see Mater fitting in here, which actually had him a little nervous at the thought.

He was startled from those thoughts when he felt a hand grip his shoulder roughly, he looked over toward Jackson, ready to make a smart remark when he realized it wasn't him. A man had come up behind the two and had Jackson's shoulder in a vice grip also.

"Rule number one!" He shouted animatedly, revealing missing and jagged teeth. "Gate closes, you race!"

"What?" Jackson looked to Lightning with wide eyes. "There is _no way_ my car is touching that track!"

"Rule number two: Last car standin' wins!" The man continued without pause. "And rule number three: No cursing. It's Family Night!"

The man slapped their shoulders and left them there as the gates began to close.

They both broke rule three at the same time.

"You gotta let us out, we don't even have cars!"

"Oh honey, we can provide cars!"

Lightning glanced over his shoulder and fought down a wave of panic before shoving Storm forward. "Climb the fence-"

"What?"

"Just climb the fence, Jackson. Now!"

Lightning knew the kid was athletic but he was still surprised at how quickly Jackson was up and over that fence. He winced though, when the treadless sole of the Vans sneakers he wore caused him to slip and land in a large puddle in the gravel lot. Lightning vaguely noted that in different circumstances he'd be laughing, it was like one of those movies where the protagonist was climbing the fence to get away from the junk yard dog that was barking and snapping at their heels. Once his feet hit the ground, he grabbed Jackson under one arm and hefted him up before shoving him toward the truck as they ran.

* * *

He stood regaining his breath outside the trailer once they had stopped a safe distance away from the derby track. If he never saw the place again in his life it would be too soon. He glanced up in the gathering evening darkness to see Jackson had yet to change. He stood with the hood of his sweatshirt up as he glowered back at McQueen.

Then, he did something that completely took Lightning by surprise. The corner of his mouth turned up in actual amusement before he huffed.

If that wasn't weird enough, Lightning was completely at a loss when he actually started to laugh.

It wasn't the jeering, fake, laugh he used when goading McQueen, but an honest to goodness laugh that caused his stomach to hurt.

Lightning could only stare for a moment in shock, speechless.

"Your face-" Jackson choked out. "When the gate was closing-"

Lightning smirked, it probably was pretty funny. Jackson's expressions had been fairly amusing.

"I _never_ want to see that place again-"

Shaking his head, Lightning went around the truck to the driver's side window and waited until Mack rolled it down.

"What even was that..."

"I dunno, Boss. The GPS said we were right there."

"Yeah, ok." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, turning his neck either direction to relieve the week's stress. It was only Tuesday...

He looked down the road they'd driven and sighed, there weren't too many markers to get an idea of where they were. He'd left his phone in the trailer so he couldn't _use my location._

He huffed and looked up the road ahead of them before narrowing his eyes slightly. The sun was just setting, nearly centered perfectly in the middle of the highway but Lightning was more interested in the run down billboard that was cast in silhouette. He could just make out a familiar outline and walked in to the lane of the highway to get a better look.

 _Thomasville Speedway_

 _Home of 51 Fabulous Hudson Hornet!_

 _Races Every Weekend! Fastest Racers Every Sunday!_

He yelled to Mack without looking away from the old sign with the chipping paint.

"Hey Mack?"

"Yeah, Boss."

"We'll be taking the next left..."

* * *

 **AN: I laughed so hard in the theater when they first arrived to Thunder Hollow. Mostly because there's a 'mudding bog' that gets used twice a year 1/4 mile from my house. As well as another one that's used at the dragstrip track less than five miles from my house, and that one is a nationally recognized track.**


	41. Cars 3 AU-5

Ok maybe it wasn't the next left, but they hadn't even seen a road to the left and it was now past midnight.

Lightning had moved up to the cab with Mack in an attempt to see the road and point it out to him, but that had proven fruitless as well and he was disheartened when they were forced to find a pull off on the side of the road for the rest of the night. Lightning knew they were all trying their best, well Mack was, he knew. With a sigh, he said goodnight and climbed out of the cab to return to the living quarters.

It was dark, and he struggled to make sure he didn't trip over anything on his way back to his bunk. He passed where Storm had set up his own personal space on the fold out couch but didn't speak as he passed him. He was staring at his phone anyway.

Two days down...

* * *

Mornings were surreal to Lightning. He'd been more of the _up by noon_ type until crashing in to Radiator Springs. Even then the only reason he was up before _eight_ was to get that road done so he could get out of there.

The first sunrise he ever really took note of had been out at the Butte with Sally. Early mornings had become habit after that.

Storm was far more disciplined than he had ever been at that age, he noticed that the kid had already left for a morning run. Not that he was even that much older than the new racing sensation when he really thought about it, fifteen, sixteen years maybe? Not nearly long enough to be given the 'elderly' label he'd been slapped with lately. He wasn't even thirty-three, how was that grounds for retirement? He realized he was getting sidetracked and turned his attention back to tying up his running shoes. He'd picked up that hobby again after his leg had healed, it was something he'd excelled at in high school, earning him his now famous nickname and was always something that helped him untangle his thoughts.

He let Mack know he was leaving and that he'd probably be back within an hour before starting out down the road. He paid no attention to his pace or the hills, only on whatever song was coming through the headphones. He paid attention to the feeling of his feet hitting the pavement, and his lungs as they worked in tandem with his heart.

 _What is racing to me?_

Racing was adrenaline, speed, outmaneuvering, outwitting. Racing was getting out of the pits in time to be on the lead lap. Racing was checkered flags, burnt rubber and gasoline. Racing was an engine cranked to the max and still asking more from it.

Racing was harsh words and trash talk, arguments and banter.

Racing was sarcastic comments through the radio, W _hat do you think you're doing? You drop a lap and you'll be making it up with a hundred at the Butte. If you could handle it on dirt why can't you now?_

Lightning skipped to a heavier song and sprinted to the top of a fairly steep and long hill, only stopping when he crested the ridge. He slowed to a stop and braced his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

 _Why can't I do it now?_

He straightened up slowly, hands braced on his sides as the breeze picked up. It wasn't even officially summer but it was _hot_ already. Lightning opened his eyes finally, still catching his breath as he took in the cloudless morning sky and then down the other side of the hill and down the road. He paused and blinked before huffing faintly and starting his run again.

There was the road to Thomasville Speedway.

He shouldn't have been too surprised, running down the narrow lane lined with red maples. Tracks back then wouldn't have had the acres of parking lots surrounding them the way they do now. He slowed to a stop once more as he reached the outside rail. Leaning forward, he braced his hands against it, pausing briefly when the board began to give in to his weight and repositioned himself against a post.

He was glad to be alone, his breathing evened out slowly as he studied the immediate area around him. It was more than he expected and disappointing all at once. To see the home track of his mentor abandoned and in disarray left him with a strange feeling of nostalgia for something he'd never lived. He wondered how Doc would have felt, seeing it this way. It was probably best that he never had.

Lightning took a deep breath and cleared his throat roughly, telling himself it was because he'd forgotten to bring a water.

It had nothing to do with being emotional over a track. Of course not.

He closed his eyes and grit his teeth when he heard footsteps in the gravel coming down the lane. He didn't have to turn around to know that it was Storm.

He came to a stop and stood a few paces behind and to the right of McQueen and after a good twenty minutes of silence, Lightning could feel his gaze boring in to the back of his head. Whether Jackson was waiting for him to say something or was just trying to make his impatience known, Lightning wasn't sure.

Lightning only continued to survey the track, this was _his_ week anyway. Not Jackson's.

Finally he glanced over to see Storm had moved up to the rail and was staring out over the time worn grandstand across from them. He was unable to tell what he was thinking on a good day and this was no different.

He raised a brow, though, at how gently the kid brushed the collected water of the morning dew off the post before resting his hand there gingerly. With a sigh Lightning went back to his own thoughts.

How much had this track seen? How much time had Doc spent there? This was his _home_ and probably knew him better than Lightning ever would. This was where he'd made it, gotten his start and spent countless hours perfecting a technique that had left lasting impressions on the sport decades later. How many races had those dented up spotlights shown on? How many layers of dirt had collected on those bleachers? How had this track felt knowing the one team, who probably loved it more than anything else, would never set foot or tire on its red dirt again?

That was a silly thought, tracks weren't sentient.

But if it could talk. Oh, he'd spend hours listening.

"Most wins in a single season, right?"

Lightning nearly jumped, feeling like he'd been electrocuted by the railing he leaned against. He blinked, needing a moment to make sure he had heard that correctly and that _Storm_ was actually the one who had asked. He huffed as he regained his composure and looked toward the other slowly.

"Yeah." He nodded faintly in surprise.


	42. Cars 3 AU-6

Lightning hadn't explained anything to Jackson when they returned to the truck. It had been a little awkward jogging back and keeping pace with the other. The shoulder of the road wasn't wide enough for them to run side by side so there'd been a bout of leapfrogging depending on who was running stronger at the moment.

He did feel a little smug when he'd gotten ahead before reaching the truck.

It looked so out of place beside that track. Lightning couldn't help but feel he was encroaching with the bright red transport truck parked near the dilapidated grandstands. His stock car looked like it didn't belong there and he hesitated before moving around to climb in. He looked over the roof to see Jackson still standing against the rail.

"You just going to stand there the whole time?"

"Dirt's not my thing."

Lightning grit his teeth and rounded the car again to approach the rail. "Make it sound like it's beneath you."

Jackson had been studying his own nails and picked at a hangnail on his ring finger. He glanced up at Lightning nonchalantly. "Pretty sure that's what I meant."

"Ohh..." Lightning shook his head and took a step back. He started in the direction of the transport truck. Jackson had crossed a line with that one. "Hey, Mack!"

"Yeah, Boss?" Mack looked away from the current trending news on his phone and down to where Lightning stood near the front tire.

"The back still open?"

"Well yeah, I didn't think you'd want it closed up till the cars were put away..."

Lightning grinned wolfishly. "Perfect."

"What are you doing." Jackson asked as he caught up with him.

"I want to see how these next gen cars handle."

"You're not touching my car."

"But how will I ever learn the new techniques unless I drive the newer car?"

"That's not my problem."

"Oh, I think it is."

"I don't know what you think-"

"Because the thing is, Jackson, Sterling expects us to work together this week. Not hold out when the opportunity for improvement arrives."

Jackson had slipped past him and stood at the top of the ramp, hands braced on his sides with a defiant expression. "I'll just tell Sterling you couldn't handle it."

"Ooo...bad move." Lightning made a face before pointing to the front of the truck. "Because it would be _our_ word against yours..."

Jackson hadn't thought of that, and Lightning grinned at the exact moment Storm realized he'd lost.

Glancing briefly over his shoulder, Storm finally looked back at Lightning. "Fine." His voice had lost all bravado as he replied flatly. "But I'm taking it out first."

"Then get to it, Next Gen."

Lightning jumped down from the edge of the ramp and started back to his own car as a lump suddenly formed in his throat. It had been a knee jerk reaction, wanting to put the other in his place but it struck him hard how his last comment echoed any number of times he'd been told to do something.

 _Get to it, Hot Rod._

He nearly teared up, kicking at the dirt of the track before he climbed into his stock car. " 'm trying, Doc-..."

* * *

" _Why_ are we still doing this."

"Because I just lapped you four times."

Lightning had found the only sturdy section of railing left and had climbed up to sit on the old whitewashed board to get a better look at what was going on. Jackson was hopeless on this track and his irritation was quite possibly the sweetest thing to ever grace Lightning's ears. For such a horrible start to the week it was certainly raising his spirits to see that Storm wasn't perfect at _everything._

Not that he really had expected him to be, but it was nice to actually witness.

"Did you even break eighty this time?" He smirked.

"You know what, McQueen, we shouldn't be doing this. What has this got to do with Florida?"

"More than you'd think."

"Don't start with the old man wisdom and rhetoric."

"Alright, fine." Lightning rested an elbow on his knee and pulled a page from Jackson's own book, surveying his nails in boredom. "I just can't believe you'll let a _dirt track_ of all things beat you."

"It hasn't _beaten_ me."

Lightning only glanced up briefly with raised brows.

It didn't help Storm's mood knowing his own perfectionism was being used against him. Instead of throwing a tantrum, which he was sure McQueen would have done, he only clamped his teeth together and started back for the 2.0 IGNTR next gen car.

"You'll want to turn right." Lightning threw out without looking up.

Jackson hesitated before turning on his heel. "What?"

"You know." He finally looked up and gestured to the turn as if it were common knowledge. "Right to go left."

"What the hell does that even mean."

"Exactly what I just said."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Yeah I didn't think so either, but that was a long time ago."

"The key word there being _long_." Jackson commented flippantly.

After an hour or so, Lightning really was wondering just what the hell he was doing. He was supposed to be training, not teaching some obnoxious kid how to make a left turn. Wasn't Storm supposed to be teaching him?

"That was sloppy."

Lightning nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice he didn't recognize and his hands gripped the board he was perched on to keep from falling off. He kept his eyes on the black car, though, expecting at any moment for the local to tell them they needed to pack it up and get out of there.

"He's terrible, but two laps ago he nearly put it through the rail so there's a little improvement." He replied conversationally. Maybe if he struck up a conversation they wouldn't get kicked out as quickly.

"That track's not nearly as clean as it used to be."

"Wouldn't expect it after so long, but he's not going to know the difference."

A companionable silence fell over them, the only sound being the tires of Jackson's car as they kicked up dirt and a few stones, and the engine straining when the car spun out on the turn nearest them.

Lightning couldn't help the feeling of familiarity when the man to his left chuckled lowly. Apparently he was enjoying the kid's torment as much as Lightning was, swearing lowly under his breath before commenting. "He is a mess."

Lightning was a little surprised when he ducked under the rail and walked out to the car. He supposed the man didn't _need_ his permission but he hadn't expected him to get involved. He watched with faint interest as the stranger stood partially hidden by the sleek black Piston Certified Next-Gen model car, hands on his knees as he spoke to Jackson through the window. Something told Lightning this wasn't his first rodeo.

He hopped down from the rail and started out on to the track, surprised and a little irritated, that Jackson wasn't giving any lip as he climbed up out of the car.

Lightning was halfway to them when the man was already starting back. "How is it he doesn't talk back-" He paused and stood shell shocked for a moment when he finally did get a decent look at him.

"I just have more experience dealing with smart mouth kids." He smirked as he passed.

Lightning spun on his heel, digging the folded paper out of his back pocket as he stuttered. "Hey- wait, you're-!"

He could vaguely tell Jackson had caught up and was standing a few paces behind him but paid him no mind.

It was Smokey, it _had_ to be. Lightning felt a sense of relief wash over him even as his heart began to race and embarrassment rushed through him at how silly he must have looked running after the older man. He was afraid to reach out to physically stop the other, the last thing he needed was to start off on the wrong foot. He'd done that before and wasn't interested in doing so again. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized how ridiculous he'd look if he was wrong, but continued anyway.

"You're Smokey! You were the crew chief for The Hudson Hornet, I've been-"

"What is it you're trying to accomplish here exactly?" He turned partially to look the kid over.

Lightning stopped, standing in the middle of the track, looking lost with a folded piece of paper in his hands. "I just-"

"Want to prove you still got it."

There was a long pause and Lightning actually looked hesitant for a moment before pressing on again. "You are him though, right?"

He watched patiently as Lightning unfolded the paper and pointing to the picture. A few feet behind him the kid in the black and electric blue hoodie almost looked like he felt sorry for him. It wasn't hard to see McQueen was desperate to find this person. "You knew Doc."

He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh as he studied the kid. Even now he was filled with boundless energy, if he looked past the wary hope that shown through McQueen's countenance he could catch glimpses of another overly excitable driver that wanted nothing more than his advice and approval. He forced back a pang of hurt and finally spoke.

"Yeah. I knew Hud."


	43. Cars 3 AU-7

Jackson suddenly felt like a third wheel.

He was _never_ the third wheel.

They tagged along after this Smokey like a pair of ducklings all day long and Jackson hadn't uttered a word since they had left the beaten down track. He had no problem remaining quiet, he'd always been labeled as a quiet guy and really only ever spoke when he found he had something worthy of saying. Unless of course it involved goading one Lightning McQueen.

Because how could he pass up the opportunity to do that.

Even among the other Next Gen racers, Jackson wasn't one for light hearted banter or even trash talk. He had a goal to reach and there was no room for any of that.

Again, unless it was to piss off Lightning McQueen, to take him off his game and watch while Jackson scattered his titles and records like they were marbles on the track.

There was no room for McQueen left on that track, he had watched the previous season as one by one all the _older_ drivers slowly faded to the background and left the racing scene to the young guns. Jackson had made it up to Piston Cup circuit with every intention to leave McQueen's records in the dust, which left little time for any kind of friendship building among his peers. He'd heard a few nasty remarks through the grapevine concerning his ego, his attitude and his aloofness, but seriously?

None of the other Next Gens had room to talk.

He wasn't there to make friends.

He didn't know what the hell he was doing here either, but it was watch this all play out or sit for hours in that trailer so he'd decided on the former.

Smokey (what kind of name was that anyway, couldn't be a real name. Neither could Lightning come to think of it. Why hadn't he considered that before...) had seemed a little exasperated by their presence at first until McQueen wore him down with questions about Doc.

Doc, Hudson Hornet, _Fabulous Hudson Hornet._

Jackson only knew what he'd seen growing up watching the #95 dominate the track, as well as the most wins in a single season bit.

Which he also planned to beat.

He spent most the day, and then evening mulling this over, because what else was he supposed to do while McQueen sat star struck among people who hadn't run a race in decades. Jackson hadn't completely ignored them, of course, that would be exceedingly rude. He'd listened and answered a few questions even while scrolling through his phone. The connection was spotty though so there was only so much he could look at. One anecdote in particular had caught his attention, though, and he'd actually set the phone down for the rest of the evening.

The air outside was refreshing after spending so much time indoors. He hadn't paid much attention as they'd returned to the transport truck but he knew it hadn't taken long, it was dark out and he was in a foreign state, it wasn't like he knew where anything was anyway. The truck was pulled off the road near an old garage, well not really off the road but he'd heard Smokey say something about no one ever using that road much further past his place so the truck could stay where it was. He'd kicked gravel around outside the door, needing to stretch his legs and try again for a signal as he downloaded a few things from Google Play while the other two had left for the garage. He didn't follow, having had enough of the third wheel feeling and trips down memory lane that didn't include him.

He was startled when McQueen returned much later and looked like he'd been _crying_.

Jackson wasn't one for emotions, but for once he left his phone sitting propped on a rock to finish with its download and hesitantly entered the trailer.

One look at McQueen and he suddenly realized this week wasn't a joke anymore. Sitting at the dinette, Lightning looked like his world had just fallen apart, staring at the paper that had been folded in his back pocket for days.

"Um-" Jackson started hesitantly before thinking better of it and started down the steps backwards.

"You ever lose anyone, Storm..."

He stopped and hesitated on the last step, that was a pretty heavy question for someone you barely got along with.

"Uh..." He started again. "No. Not other than the usual...grandparents or-..."

The last thing he ever expected was to be standing in The Middle of Nowhere, Georgia, watching Lightning McQueen nearly have a nervous breakdown.

Lightning pinched the bridge of his nose, not caring anymore about keeping up appearances for Storm. He set the photo aside after it had collected a few stray tears that had fallen, blurring the ink at the corners of the printed page.

Smokey had asked to get a better look at the print out during their conversation in the garage, while Lightning marveled over the collection of letters and kept himself from tearing up in front of the older man, Smokey had studied the picture and offered him a little bit of insight behind the image.

It was a candid shot that Lightning had found in a box while going through Doc's garage a year or so ago that had then made it in to the book he'd written the forward for. The original had been framed and Lightning had very carefully chosen a place for it in the museum but had kept a printed copy during this whole trip.

Whoever had snapped the picture had either been incredibly lucky, or good at what they did. It was sharp, and crystal clear, despite the animated motion captured of the individuals in the picture. Smokey explained that it was from 1952 if he'd remembered correctly. He hadn't realized a photo had been taken but he was glad someone had. A very young, very _vibrant_ looking Doc Hudson was smiling broadly while reaching up to catch what looked like a helmet being thrown towards him. Smokey had a less than enthused expression, though Lightning could sense some exasperated fondness as he'd stood to one side.

"Kid never could stand still." Smokey had muttered, staring at the image.

Lightning had turned his attention away from the wall to ask if they'd been close. He figured most drivers and crew chiefs were, it seemed to be the only way to have a decent career. He'd managed for a while his rookie season, but look at where that had gotten him, two blown tires and a tiebreaker race.

Then again, that had been the best decision of his life looking back on it.

He hadn't expected the answer he'd gotten and the sudden sense of familiarity made sense, of course brothers would be similar.

It had hit him like a punch to the gut to realize how little he seemed to know of his mentor suddenly. A thousand questions had all come to mind at once and he'd been overwhelmed, speaking quickly in an attempt to get all those thoughts out before he forgot anything.

Smokey had, of course, answered as much as he could but Lightning realized there were gaps and missing pieces to his memories also. He had stopped with his barrage of questions suddenly when it finally sank in that, this was Doc's brother, he was hurting too, and there stood Lightning chattering away without a thought to how this could be affecting him.

At his sudden silence, Smokey had tilted his head and raised a brow while regarding him.

"You are a lot like him." He'd huffed with faint amusement.

Lightning hadn't spoken but his curiosity was obvious.

"You might know him as Doc, but _Hud,_ Jesse- was act now, think about it later, more often than not. Got him in to trouble too."

Lightning's eyes had gotten that wistful look again and he pulled a chair out.

He was afraid of overstepping his bounds, but Smokey had told him stories for hours.

Sitting at the dinette, he sighed lowly as he got his emotions under control and leaned against the little table. He propped his chin on his hand and spun the paper toward himself again, red eyed and emotionally exhausted.

Jackson sat across from him, his phone outside forgotten momentarily as he eyed the image upside down and heard Lightning's quiet remark.

"I have to find whatever it is he saw..."

* * *

 **AN: If I could insert an emoji, it would be that weird ugly sobbing one.**


	44. Cars 3 AU-8

"What do you think you're doing."

"What does it look like." Lightning glanced between the two cars parked on the dirt track and back toward Jackson.

"You're still not touching my car."

"We had this argument yesterday."

"That was yesterday."

Smokey glanced up toward the sky from where he was leaning against the railing and summoned the patience needed to deal with the kids in front of him. It had been a _long_ time since he'd stood there, in that exact spot even, and coached a driver that was dumb enough to talk back at times.

He wasn't even listening to their bickering but spoke up suddenly and wasn't surprised when they fell silent.

"Kid's got a point you know."

Lightning frowned and his head whipped in Smokey's direction. "Sorry?"

"What do you drive on the track?" It was his turn to play the uninterested teacher, picking at a knot in the wooden rail in front of him with his old pocket knife. He brushed the wood shavings away and glanced up when Lightning didn't answer right away.

"Well, the Rust-eze-..."

"Then that's what you train in. No point in learning a different car if you're not going to use it."

Jackson only offered a smug grin in Lightning's direction before going to get in his car.

"Hey, kid."

Lightning hesitated but finally sighed and approached the railing Smokey was leaned against. He appreciated the help, he did, but they were past the halfway mark of the week. He didn't have a lot of time.

Smokey only glanced at him before looking back toward the #2.0, he knew they couldn't be heard but lowered his voice anyway. "You have _got_ to stop letting him get to you."

"What? I'm not-" Lightning's protest died at the look he was being given. It must have been a Hudson thing, because the 'who do you think you're fooling' look was only intimidating when they were giving it.

"You remember what I said about the rookie Hud dealt with."

"In '53?"

He hummed in affirmation before speaking. "Kid was wound up for weeks over this new driver, because he was gunning for him, and _only_ him. The minute he took a step back and concentrated on his own driving, and went back to worrying about himself-" He poked Lightning in the chest to emphasize his point. "-he left that rookie in the dust."

"Things won't ever go back to the way they were. You'll never be as fast as him." He didn't fail to notice how Lightning's expression fell at that. Instinctively, he reached out and tapped the kid's temple. "But you can be smarter."

Lightning was silent a moment before finally looking up at him and nodding once.

"Now go get in the car, we got work to do."

He watched as Lightning climbed in to the stock car and adjusted his ball cap as both cars started out for a warm up lap.

"Boy, have we got work to do..."

* * *

Jackson wished he had popcorn, because McQueen's whining was the best soap opera drama he'd seen in a while. After an entire day of doing every single thing they'd been told to do, they were camped out watching old race reels. Jackson was splitting his time between watching the footage and watching McQueen's belly aching over how _he never had to draft before._

Smokey's reply had left him looking between the two almost gleefully, teeth clamped together as a laugh fought it's way up and caught in the back of his throat.

Ok, maybe he was exaggerating McQueen's 'whining', because he wasn't really, it was just too entertaining to see the older driver look at his former crew chief's...crew chief? (Were they called crew chiefs in the fifties? He had no idea.) With a look of exasperated despondency.

If he were completely honest, which he liked to believe he usually was, to a fault even, was that his thinking was that Smokey was probably the only person who _could_ help McQueen at this point. The man who'd taught McQueen's own crew chief/trainer was most likely the only person on the face of the planet, currently, that he'd listen to.

Because McQueen hadn't exactly been listening to him, that was for sure. That was ok, though, he'd never really expected him to.

It was getting too late in the evening to continue, and when Lightning asked why they couldn't just fire up the spotlights on the track, Smokey's expression became unreadable.

"They don't work anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Do I need to be?" He'd asked a little more forcefully than necessary.

"I just want to check, where would I-"

Jackson had pushed himself up from the lawn chair when Smokey regarded them silently, his jaw set briefly before he turned toward the grandstand. He passed a hand over the back of his neck. "Why not go check. Stranger things have happened..."

* * *

Lightning stared up at the set of keys hanging, covered with decades of dirt that made them look almost fake. "How do I get up there?"

Smokey stood a few feet back with his arms crossed, eyeing the key ring with a look Lightning couldn't quite interpret.

McQueen attempted to scale the chain link but was forced to drop back to the ground. It wasn't really relevant to what he was doing but he suddenly wanted to ask what he'd been wondering about all day.

"This place bring back memories?"

"More than you know."

They made a ridiculous sight, Lightning and Smokey conversing even as Jackson attempted to get a running start toward the fence.

"With all the other fences falling apart you'd think we could just push it over."

"You would think." Smokey muttered.

"What if we-"

"No."

Lightning's brows lowered in confusion, but he supposed that Smokey must have known what he was going to suggest.

A few more failed attempts from either of the boys and Smokey excused himself, thinking that maybe there were old bolt cutters somewhere they could get access to. When he returned he stopped and huffed, standing just inside the entrance and shaking his head when Lightning held the keys up with a smirk. It was like looking in to the past.

Unfortunately, though, the evening didn't last long. While there were spotlights that still worked, to everyone's great surprise, there were still commitments Smokey had the next morning and he was forced to duck out before it got too late. Lightning knew they could just pick up the next day but was still left staring out at the track once Smokey had finally left.

Jackson had gone back to the trailer, which had found itself parked at the track once more, and had started reading one of the books he'd downloaded the night before. Before he knew it, it was after one in the morning and he was a quarter of the way through. He set the phone down and stretched before realizing McQueen hadn't ever returned to the trailer. He hadn't had he?

Storm zipped his hoodie up and left the living space. He was startled to see the spotlights still lit over the dirt track and McQueen's figure in just about the same place he'd seen him last. He was ready to make some sarcastic remark but held back, and he was glad he did. McQueen's outburst startled him and he stayed where he was near the headlight on the passenger side of the big rig.

Lightning hadn't felt this low since leaving Radiator Springs, he'd been staring out over the red dirt for hours before finally having enough.

"What did you see?" He shouted suddenly as he kicked the rotted post before him in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. Tears welled in his eyes before he had the chance to even think of stopping them. "What was so special about me!"

Maybe it was time to call it quits. Maybe it was time to go home.

Realizing McQueen was about to return to the trailer, Jackson made a hasty retreat as silently as possible and flopped onto the fold out couch he'd been occupying the whole trip. He nearly bust his kneecap in the dark trying to make sure he was there before Lightning opened the door and held his breath against the pain even as he heard the little door open and closed his eyes.

Lightning allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the trailer and wandered past the dinette and where Jackson lay sleeping as he made his way to the back of the trailer.

The phone on the dinette lit up with a notification and he glanced at it, thinking it was his for a moment before realizing it was Jackson's. The automated question from the reading app surprised him, though, and left him stalled in his tracks for a moment.

 _Would you like to bookmark the last page you read in,_ _DRIVEN TO WIN: How Dirt Track Racers Shaped Piston Cup?_

* * *

 **AN: Feels. Some of you have mentioned it but I have to join in.**


	45. Cars 3 AU-9

He was running out of time.

There were only so many laps he could fit in to a day, only so many turns, passes, and attempts at drafting. They'd taken the shortest break possible and he'd stared at the track the entire time. When he wasn't stuck on his own issues that needed sorted out, he was watching ghosts and shadows of a long gone era fly by the dilapidated bleachers.

If he concentrated hard enough he might even choke on the dust kicked up.

For now, though, he stared at the tire tracks he and Jackson had left in the powder-like dirt that afternoon.

Speaking of Storm, the kid's attitude had definitely shifted in the last two days. While Lightning had no misconceptions of them being the best of friends, there were no longer any snide remarks or taunting comments concerning his age. Jackson had taken a drastic turn for the formal, professional, speech between drivers. It was strange.

He'd actually been startled out of his thoughts at one point to hear the kid asking Smokey a few things. Instead of listening, though, he stewed over how the kid had _no right_ to stories or answers that Lightning felt should be for him alone.

He didn't bring up the book. They weren't friends, they weren't going to be friends. Once Sunday came and went they would be back to the way things were.

Well, he hoped not _exactly_ the way things were.

If he lost Sunday he was done.

Goodbye racetrack, hello stupid infomercials selling whatever product they could slap his face on.

He remembers seeing a set of golf clubs, what the hell did Lightning McQueen or #95 have to do with golf?

He'd never felt so alone.

He would give anything to talk to Doc. Knowing the closest thing he'd ever have to sitting and talking to his mentor again was the group of people he'd met that week only seemed to extend the gap, not bridge it. To be looked at with a sense of familiarity but little recognition was maddening. To know someone but to not _truly_ know them was possibly the most heartbreaking thing he'd ever experienced. And it wasn't only on his end, he could tell the others were frustrated by the lack of answers they'd expected also.

They couldn't replace _Doc_ and he couldn't replace _Hud._

Lightning just wanted the week to be over with, to be honest.

He'd nearly called Sally the morning after his breakdown. So ready to call it quits, he wanted to tell Mack to hit the road, dump the kid at the closest training facility with a _Thanks but no thanks for everything_ and limp back to Radiator Springs. Maybe if he hid for fifty years he could come back to a big welcome and bypass all the humiliating infomercial deals.

He never did call Sally and he thinks it had something to do with seeing Smokey show up that morning. Lightning knew he could never replace _Hud, Jesse, The Fabulous Hudson Hornet,_ in the former crew chief's eyes but there must have been enough of a memory that was worth clinging to. Enough of _something_ that brought the man back to the track at 8 AM that morning.

Which he hadn't expected, he'd thought it would be later.

He still felt adrift, even after everything they'd worked on, he felt like he just wasn't as solid behind the wheel as he'd anticipated to be. There was just something about the IGNTR #2.0 car that left a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Lightning wondered vaguely if Doc had felt the same way upon learning he was no longer a part of Piston Cup back in the '50s, but that was a question he wasn't willing to ask Smokey. That particular subject had been kicked under the rug completely.

At least he wasn't being blindsided, he had a chance to prepare for the worst.

He still wished Doc were there, though.

They'd done just about all they could do at this point, he was tired of _training_ and he was tired of _thinking._ He just wanted to _drive_ on the red dirt of _Thomasville Speedway_ , because if he didn't look to either side he could pretend there was a navy blue Hudson Hornet keeping stride with the fire red stock car, before cutting him off on the turn to leave him in the dust.

The IGNTR #2.0 never joined his solo run and he was thankful for that. He wondered if Smokey had anything to do with it.

* * *

If he didn't know better, Smokey would have thought the kid was hesitant to leave the next morning. They'd all met back up at the abandoned track to see the transport truck off when McQueen had asked if they'd be joining them. They'd originally intended to watch the race in the comfort of their own homes, or more likely, his home, but with an elbow to the side from Louise he'd bitten back a sigh and agreed. Like he'd mentioned to the kid before, stranger things had happened.

So they'd followed the truck, condensing the crew in to two vehicles, his truck and Junior's Ford Coupe. He'd stared out the windshield at the #95 trailer the entire trip, and if Lou had spoken at all, he certainly hadn't been aware of it. The route to Florida hadn't changed, but an unfamiliar sense of dread fell over him as he parked the truck in the only space left for the #95 crew.

 _Crew Chief_

Louise only gripped his arm briefly before getting out of the truck, looking him in the eye. "Take care of that boy."

He wasn't able to form a reply before a pit pass was shoved in his hands. The other three had refused passes and were gone before he could find out where they'd be.

A slew of people he didn't know all seemed to wait for instruction he wasn't ready to give, a headset was passed to him quickly and he caught his brother's name scribbled in that recognizable handwriting across one ear piece in white sharpie and felt the knot in his stomach tighten. This wasn't right. This wasn't the Piston Cup he knew. This wasn't dirt tracks and signing in, this wasn't modifying three wheel brakes. This was asphalt and headsets. This was point standings and penalties. While the core rules still applied, this was not his sport.

Take care of that boy.

Take care of _Hud's_ boy.

With a sigh he'd been holding back since Thomasville, Smokey threw the headset around his neck and started giving orders to the people who'd been patiently waiting. He muttered lowly to himself before giving Lightning an encouraging slap on the shoulder.

"Because he's your brother's kid."

* * *

Jackson had been swarmed by his own crew as well as the press, but his sole intent had been to get in to his suit. He stood in his own pit space, just in front of McQueen's, and out of the way as they made sure the car was up to specs.

"This car is a mess, Jackson, what'd you do to it?"

Storm knew well enough that Reverham meant the dirt coating both sides of the car. There was nothing mechanically unsound.

"Took it off roading."

"Old school, huh?"

"Extremely."

"Can appreciate that." His crew chief smirked before swiping a hand through the collected dirt. "Can't move forward without knowing where you've been."

Why did that sound like something McQueen's friends would say...

He glanced to the #95 space and the eclectic group of people making sure the car was ready. McQueen's expression looked like he was willing the car to do well this race as he stared intently at the Rust-eze logo with his arms crossed. Jackson took a step in that direction before catching himself and jerking back awkwardly in realization.

He'd been about to offer his well wishes and good luck this race, without any underlying animosity or sarcasm...

What had those people done to him.

* * *

"Hey kid."

Lightning glanced up, helmet in hand, to see that Smokey had climbed back down from the pit box.

"Yeah?"

"Wanted to give you these, but forgot I had them in all this chaos."

He held out a five by seven black and white glossy photo, as well as a newer color print.

"I have doubles of both, thought you'd want 'em."

Lightning took the photos and pored over them for a moment. The black and white was another candid shot, a much younger Smokey with an arm around Doc's shoulders, both laughing over something to the point that neither were looking toward the camera. The color photo caused Lightning to take a deep breath, he remembered it being taken just before he'd been awarded his fourth Piston Cup. They stood in front of the half wall near the pits, both wearing their racing jackets and Doc's arm over his shoulders. They'd both been wearing sunglasses but one thing that had always stood out was that it was a rare time Doc had _fully smiled._ It wasn't a smirk, or a sarcastic grin, but a real genuine smile. In front of a camera no less.

He blinked a few times and grinned painfully. "Smokey these are great. Thank you."

Before Lightning could get too sentimental, Smokey explained the black and white photo. "Was back in '53, before everything went downhill." He smirked. "You know about the color one."

Lightning went to thank him again but the call came for the drivers. He hefted his helmet even as Smokey slapped his shoulder again before going back to the pit box.

"Make 'im proud, kid."

* * *

 **AN: Yes, Jackson, what have they done.**


	46. Cars 3 AU-10

"This might not be a tiebreaker race, Bob, but I'm certainly getting some of those early 2000's vibes off of McQueen after being gone for a week."

"And not only McQueen, Jackson Storm is finally present and accounted for as well. With no time to lose as teams make the final adjustments to their cars."

Lightning couldn't remember ever actually being _nervous_ for a race. He got his helmet on before hearing a muffled version of his name and turned to see Sally rushing toward him. With the bulk of the helmet in the way, she felt like there was a barrier between them that she couldn't break through and settled for resting her hands on either side of the heavy protective piece.

"Stickers."

"Yeah, Sal?"

She studied what she could see of his face, which wasn't much, before meeting his eyes for an extended moment. "This isn't the end, no matter what happens. Ok?"

Sally watched as he glanced past her shoulder to the crew that had been with him since the end of his rookie year, the people who'd given him a home, and made him one of their own. They'd been there for every single one of his races since, he couldn't let them down.

He blinked a few times and looked back at her. "Yeah, I know." She could just barely tell he was smiling but it never reached his eyes. "Thanks, Sally."

She offered her own hesitant smile and drummed her fingers lightly on his helmet before she leaned forward to hug him quickly and pressed a quick kiss to the cold surface over his cheek.

Since they hadn't been present for qualifying, both McQueen and Storm were at the back of the line up. Lightning felt like it was cheating but he had every intention of drafting off Storm to get to the front of the pack.

It was a technique...not cheating. Maybe he felt like it was cheating because he'd never really done it before.

He still felt adrift even as he climbed in to his car, the calm before the storm, standing on the edge of the cliff where a single misstep could lead you to a painful end.

The Florida 500. Was this once the track Doc's career ended on? He'd never considered it and would have to breach that subject with Smokey.

But later, he felt like that would be a bad idea to discuss now.

Ignorance was bliss and all that.

Only a week ago, he was standing at the Rust-eze training center and listening to the most outlandish idea he could imagine. Was it really only a week ago?

Had he really only met Smokey days ago?

Was his racing career really hinging on the next 500 laps? It felt like a badly written fanfic.

That had been a mistake he'd made, stumbling upon that years ago, but he wasn't going to concentrate on it now.

He had a race to win.

Somehow.

Lightning wasn't the only one struggling. His anxiety was rolling off in waves, leaving the rest of the crew edgy and quiet aside from the usual words of encouragement. Most of them had no idea who Smokey was, but if Lightning trusted him enough to hand him Doc's old headset, then it was good enough for them.

It didn't mean the next few hours would be any easier, though.

* * *

Once the race was underway, it didn't take long to move up the ranks. Drafting wasn't difficult but it was trying to get in front that was the hard part. Jackson might have mellowed out some throughout the week but it didn't mean he was just going to stand by and allow Lightning to do as he pleased. They were still competitors after all.

Lightning was currently boxed in, surrounded by Next Gens but holding a steady fifth. One wrong move would send him back to where he'd started though. He huffed lowly, barely half way through the race and he was exhausted. He didn't feel like he'd even worked that hard, but mentally he'd run himself ragged.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly and grit his teeth. "I wish Doc were here-"

"I know kid, but I'm the closest you're gunna get."

Lightning cringed, he'd been so used to silence from the pit box the last few years that he'd forgotten that channel was open, even though they'd been conversing the entire race.

"Sorry, I just-"

"Don't be sorry, just keep doing what you're doing."

He nodded, as if he could be seen and tried to find an opening for the next 150 laps, but lap 400 was when his last shred of hope hit the proverbial concrete wall.

"Oh! Trouble in turn two! McQueen's loose-!"

"He's reigned her in, Darrell, but it appears he might have blown the engine."

"Everyone knows what that blue smoke means." Darrell's voice took on a sympathetic tone.

"Caution has come out as #95 limps back to pit row."

"I hope he didn't have anything riding on this one, Bob."

* * *

Lightning had never climbed out of the car so quickly, yanking the helmet off he looked toward the rest of the crew who were scrambling to see about getting the back up car ready.

"It's no use, Sal. Even the backup can't make it over 198. Those cars have been clocking in over 210."

They moved aside as the #95 was rolled behind the wall and Lightning caught sight of Sterling out of the corner of his eye. "I should probably go talk-"

It was chaos, Lightning was vaguely aware of the others pulling the cover off the backup, yelling and working as quickly as possible. Smokey had come down from the pit box and was making his way toward him when all movement in their space ceased. All attention turned quickly to the black and electric blue #2.0 that had sped into the #95 space. All time seemed suspended for a brief moment, and Lightning felt like he was moving in slow motion when he approached the car. Storm was just getting the webbing of the window undone as Lightning leaned down to see him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Came to check up on you. What's it look like I'm doing?"

"You know, now is really not a good time-" Lightning glanced toward Storm's own crew and could tell they were totally in the dark as well. "You've missed your space by a good 100 feet."

"I know how to drive. I hit my mark." He undid his own helmet and could tell Lightning was about to speak again but cut him off. "I think #95 needs to finish the race."

"What-"

"You heard me. Or maybe you didn't, I hear that's one of the first things to go."

"No." Lightning shook his head quickly, realizing the rest of the group was slowly beginning to gather behind him. "Besides, there's no time."

"Time for what?" Sally asked.

"Stormy wants to drive for Lightnin'!" Mater cut in.

"Tell your buddy to refrain from calling me that."

"He can do that?" Sally asked.

"No." Lightning started. "Storm just said he can't call him that."

Smokey fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. It had been a long time since he'd refereed a bunch of kids speaking too fast for their brains to catch up. "She means the driving, kid."

"Oh. Yeah, he can- but no- he's not going to."

"I just need a number!"

Sally knew they were wasting time. "Is that allowed? It's not even the same car..."

Before anyone could explain, it was Jackson who surprisingly laid it out for everyone. "As long as the team number is displayed, a car or driver can be substitute."

Sally looked toward Lightning for verification, but Smokey was the one to answer.

"He's right. You just have to have his number covered."

Lightning was fairly sure the only reason Jackson knew that was because of the book, but he wasn't going to ask now. "We don't have any decals-" He cut himself off and spun on his heel. "Hey Ramone!"

The IGNTR car was left in the artist's capable hands after Jackson had climbed out and rushed to give an explanation to his own crew.

* * *

 **AN: Jackson might be driving but not sure he's going to be diggin' the new paint job!**


	47. Cars 3 AU-11

**AN: I am a little perturbed over the fact that there are people out there that can watch Cars 3 right now (it could even be you, dear reader) because they can get the digital copy, but seeing as I live in an area so remote I'm pretty sure Thomasville could seem more technically advanced, I have to wait another two weeks to purchase the DVD! D:**

 **I jest, but still...**

* * *

"Am I seeing this correctly, Darrell?"

"I am _not_ the one to be asking, Bob, because I'm not believing my own eyes right now!"

"McQueen seems to have found himself a substitute car _and_ a substitute driver!"

"I'm not sure this has actually ever been done!" Cartrip's voice had taken on his usual enthusiasm and it was obvious he was loving what he was seeing.

"For clarification for folks at home, this play _is_ completely legal, it just has been used very rarely in the history of Piston Cup to it's full extent. While substitute drivers are used often, subbing a car and driver together has only ever happened a handful of times."

Cartrip was still on his own tangent, even commenting to camera crew and sound techs in the booth. "-and Jackson Storm of all people!"

* * *

There wasn't time to complain but Jackson couldn't just get back in the car without making a comment. "What did you do!"

"We made it a Rust-eze car." Lightning grinned and thanked Ramone again.

"Hey, you take what you can get, man." Ramone directed toward Jackson. "You wanted #95 to race, #95 is gunna race!"

Somehow nearly all the blue on the next gen vehicle had been dubbed out for a bright red to match the stock car that had been rolled behind the wall. Every single #2.0 had been covered with #95 or _Rust-eze_ or something to do with Piston Cup. It was impressive, but it was startling to Storm when he realized suddenly just exactly what he had offered and agreed to. He couldn't back out now, even if he'd wanted. There'd be no coming back from that kind of fall out. He'd seen what moves like that could do to a career, Chick Hicks was one that sprang to mind.

"Yeah, ok-" Jackson shook his head, feeling a little dazed as it all sank in, and went to climb back in the car.

"Wait!" Lightning stopped him, holding a hand up that he nearly walked in to. He held up his personal red #95 helmet. "We don't have time to redo helmets, you'll have to take this one."

Jackson actually practiced a little self control and held back an eye roll and a huff of irritation as he took the item. It made sense though, still had to switch out the #2.0 for #95, even helmets. He tilted his head back and forth once he was in the car and helmet on, having to get at least one dig in through all of this. "This thing weighs a ton, McQueen, and how big is your head anyway?"

"Funny. Get out of this pit space."

"I'm really feeling the appreciation here."

"No seriously. If you don't you'll probably end up a lap down!"

Lightning slapped the side of the car once Storm had gotten everything situated and sped off. He couldn't help but mutter something about keeping it slow enough until crossing the line on to the track, though.

Sally stood beside him, staring at the now black and red car. "What just happened?"

"I...I really am not sure..." Lightning turned to get back behind the wall and nearly collided with Smokey.

The former crew chief pulled the headset off, holding it out to Lightning. "Think you need this."

Lightning blinked a few times but took the offered item quickly, Storm couldn't go too long without some form of communication from them. The convenient thing with Jackson having to wear his helmet was that they didn't need to find a new channel.

"Uh- ok-"

Smokey only gestured to the track and moved away from the ladder of the pit box. He knew the kid knew what he was doing, he'd watched him for close to a week and there was nothing Lightning would say in to that headset that he wouldn't have said himself. He'd had his time to shine, back when he was even younger than McQueen was currently, but now it was the kid's turn. There was nothing he could see that could hold the kid back. He deserved to wear that headset, for more reasons than one.

Lightning glanced toward Sally, adjusting the mic even as she gestured up to the box encouragingly. He nodded with a sigh and climbed up to take in the track.

It was surreal, he'd of course stood in a pit box before but never _during_ a race, and certainly never during a race that _Rust-eze_ was driving in.

He couldn't help but comment on the first thing he noticed. "You have noticed that wall on your right, right?"

"Of course I know there's a- wait, _you're-_ "

"Yeah, I am. Surprise!"

With each lap Lightning seemed to grow more comfortable in the position he found himself in. For the longest time Sally could tell he didn't really know what to do with himself. That was a lot of sitting still compared to the traveling at 200 mph he was so used to. He'd stood with his arms crossed, he'd leaned against the support and safety bar, he'd sat in the chair with his hands linked over his head. He just _could not_ find what worked for him until around lap 425.

Sally had kept a close eye on what was happening that race. They weren't kidding when they said that Storm was in a class of his own, but with the comments and certain things she was catching Lightning sharing from his vantage point. The IGNTR (no, _Rust-eze_ ) driver seemed to be dominating even more than usual. Maybe he always had and she was just paying closer attention now that Lightning wasn't on the track, but she had an inkling of hope that it had something to do with Lightning's own knowledge and experience.

"You better not need tires or anything too specific the rest of the time you're out there, that'd be pretty rough to coordinate with your usual crew." The cars were too different, there wasn't much the rest of them could do at this point but hope that there wasn't a repeat of McQueen's rookie year.

Sally waited to see what his reaction to Jackson's response would be, and she couldn't help but feel a smile break through when he laughed at whatever the kid had said.

"Boy does that sound familiar- _watch-!_ what you're doing...I did tell you how many car lengths, you just weren't listening."

Sally could only grin again, taking in his profile as the lights around the track were coming on. He wasn't wrong, it did sound familiar. Her cautious hope was growing steadily as the race continued. He might not be driving, he may never drive again because of this particular race but she could tell he was seeing another side to it. He didn't have to bow out just because he wasn't behind the wheel. Maybe he'd realize he could transition his role, that this didn't necessarily have to be a one time thing. She desperately hoped he did, because she hadn't seen him so comfortable at a race since before the Next-Gens had started showing up. Maybe standing still and watching _someone else_ travel over 200 mph would be good for him.

There was a radio near Mater and she could hear Cutlass and Cartrip. She caught herself listening in despite the fact that she could see what was going on with her own eyes.

"Treadless and Swervez both looking to make a move. They drop to the inside but Storm's not letting anyone get around him today."

She glanced up toward Lightning and could tell he wasn't taking the competition lightly either.

"#28 Treadless still looking for his opening-"

"This late in the race is not the time to be up and down the track. This is when the mistakes are made."

Sally couldn't see exactly what was happening but she listened as the announcers both spoke at once.

"Treadless against the wall-!"

"Spinner, Swervez, and Racelott tangled in the mayhem-"

"Laney coming up across the track, tags Cam Spinner again."

"Caution out on lap 438..."

She glanced up at Lightning again quickly to see he was all business. It was strange being able to see him _during_ a race, she was so used to just staring at a car as it went in circles and getting information second hand, now he was right there.

"No, you'll have to come back." She heard him say. "It's going to take a while to clean up the track..."


	48. Cars 3 AU-12

If anyone had ever told Sally she would see Lightning McQueen and Jackson Storm standing in close proximity without threatening to kill the other she would have laughed in their face. She was glad she'd never put money on it, though, as she watched the two both standing near the newly repainted 'Rust-eze' Next Gen.

Their stances mirrored each other, somewhat at least, and she wondered if that was just a Piston driver thing. That _arms crossed and leaning back_ posture. She didn't want to stare but it was still strange to see them being amiable toward each other. Especially when she saw them both laugh over something before Lightning put a headphone to his ear briefly, apparently listening for any updates on their timetable.

Whatever had happened in the last week, she was going to need the full story, every detail down to the last muttered comment and seemingly insignificant bit of body language. Her skill as a lawyer had given her an edge when it came to reading and dealing with people, and she'd always prided herself on figuring out what made them tick. Something drastic had to have happened, she just couldn't think of what it might have been.

Jackson still seemed a little aloof but he was definitely not the rival they'd faced the year before, not when every now and then he'd actually crack a smile, a real smile. Stranger yet, he was actually listening to whatever Lightning had to say. They must have been looking over the car, they both had their attention drawn there and now and then someone would point. At what she didn't know, that seemed to be another Piston thing. Someone was _always_ pointing at something on the cars.

"I'm going to point this out, it's a tire, and aside from the brand and size has no significance to anything whatsoever but from a distance I look like I know what I'm-" She stopped her narration, knowing that she had no idea what they did and didn't know, that wasn't really fair to them, but it was fun to do when she was bored.

Sally went back to her silent scrutiny of the two drivers. How in the course of two years time, had things changed so much? She used to think Lightning looked flashy, with his bright red jacket and expensive licensed sunglasses. When he'd shown up in Radiator Springs she'd found the glamour a little over the top. Now though, compared to these new drivers, the style paled in comparison.

That was definitely a Piston thing. Bigger, brighter, shinier, _faster_ , more expensive and definitely more glamorous.

If there was one thing she'd learned about this sport was that when it decided to move on, it moved on, no matter who or what it might leave behind.

It made her feel old, she wasn't old was she? That was a scary thought. Comparing the two as they waited for word from officials, the age gap was apparent. Lightning wasn't really _that_ much older but they were two different generations. From their hair styles, to their suits, even down to the shoes they wore, Sally could spot the differences.

Lightning had told her before he left for that week of training, what Cal had told him. Maybe it really was time to step back and let the new kids move in.

* * *

Drivers were called back to their cars, it had taken longer than anticipated and the spotlights on the infield backlit drivers and crews as they set back to work. Lightning had climbed back up in to the pit box and got himself situated. This certainly wasn't what he'd expected, but even as the new #95 left pit row and he took in the view from up above everyone else, a strange feeling of... well he couldn't even find the right word as he mulled it over.

That feeling, whatever it was, deserved a better word than, right.

But it did, it felt _right._

He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the field as they came around for the restart.

Is this what it felt like? Did Doc feel this way at the tiebreaker race so many years ago? Did he secretly hesitate because the newer cars made him feel obsolete or had he just jumped in to the role without a second thought, because he was _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ and Piston Cup would just have to make room for him once more.

 _Racing wasn't the best part of his life._

With Jackson suddenly racing _for_ #95 and not _against_ #95, Lightning had no real concerns over the kid not taking the field. He was good, the previous season had shown him that and now that Lightning found himself watching from the box, he wasn't sure what his response to Sterling would be after the race.

Jackson Storm was a powerhouse, this race was practically decided already and racing under #95 meant the Lightning would still _technically_ win.

But what if he didn't want to drive anymore? What if this was the next chapter?

"Yo, are you watching from over there? Or am I running the rest of this solo?"

He was shaken from his thoughts and directed his attention back to the track, that would have to wait anyway. Jackson had a race to finish.

* * *

"Jackson Storm back in first place, and I know it's been mentioned a number of times already but I think the Rust-eze logo looks good on that car."

"We're putting the cart before the horse there, Bob." Darrell for once was the one to reel them in. "I think everyone's been taken by surprise with this move but it's more than likely just the one race."

"You're right of course there, but stranger things have happened."

Smokey couldn't help but shake his head with a faint grin from where he stood near the radio.

* * *

 **AN: Less than a week and I can get Cars 3 on DVD! I am sooooo hyped! :D**


	49. Cars 3 AU-13

**AN: Ughhhhhh my music is on shuffle and I'm skipping through songs and around word 300 or so Find Yourself pops up and I'm a mess...like for real, I can never hear that song without crying.**

* * *

"We're down to the final lap here at the Florida 500, and after an exciting day of surprises it looks like #95 will be coming in for the win!"

"Someone better be digging through the record books because I haven't seen a lead like this...ever!"

Blinding camera flashes, the roar of the crowds, film and photography cameras closing in from every direction. It was all the same.

Except it wasn't.

Lightning wasn't catching his breath or itching to get out of his racing suit, Under Armor shirt beneath soaked through and making him feel clammy. He wasn't looking for his Rust-eze baseball cap and making sure the soda he grabbed had the label pointed in just the right direction to be caught by the cameras. He'd known what the outcome of the race was going to be but it had still somehow felt like a surprise, or maybe not exactly a surprise but definitely surreal.

The press smile came easy of course but his thoughts were torn between the chaos surrounding them and what this all meant for the future. Jumping from the pit box he forcefully shoved both the past and future to the side and focused on the present.

He never looked directly in to the cameras, it had been a habit he picked up after his rookie season. Of course he made exceptions but for the most part he gave his attention to the interviewer, whoever was speaking to him, or he would be preoccupied with looking out toward the cheering fans, or looking for his family. His PR performance took over and he answered questions on autopilot, not even sure where some of his own answers were coming from as he was followed on his treck to the winner's circle. That was new, he'd never _walked._

"How did this come about today, McQueen?"

"It's been a surprise to everyone, and I think we're all still a little dazed, Storm included."

"What was it like collaborating as opposed to competing?"

"That came easier than expected, but once you find a niche things just fall in to place."

Lightning was released from questions of one reporter to be followed up by another until he reached the winner's circle and bounced up the steps where Jackson was already out of the car and surrounded by press.

The majority of the Radiator Springs crew had hung back, not having any answers this time that could pass for acceptable. They had all deemed it prudent to hang back and instead watched on the big screens as Lightning stood just to the left a step or so behind Jackson, speaking to someone off camera. Jackson for his part, didn't appear or sound any different, he hadn't undergone some magical transformation but it was interesting to _everyone_ , not just the Radiator Springs crew, but to all in attendance from the highest officials down to the greenest crew members, how easy it was for him to suddenly refer to _Team #95_ without any slip ups or misplaced sponsor names.

"Jackson what prompted the sudden switch this afternoon?"

"When McQueen's engine went, I just came in to the pits, it was a bit of a knee jerk reaction."

"But what caused the decision to give up your own car and drive for Rust-eze?"

"It just seemed right. We all put a lot on these races but I knew this one meant more to McQueen than the rest of us."

While he didn't react outwardly, keeping his usual professional decorum about him, Lightning felt like he'd been through the ringer. How did those words actually just escape Jackson Storm's mouth. How, in the course of a week, had they gone from taunting each other to working together. How can someone change that quickly.

Well, like everyone had said, stranger things had happened.

It had only taken a week in a sleepy little town for him to realize he had been missing so much in life, but nearly 10 years to fully appreciate it.

Several hours, and 500 laps determined if he would have a career or not.

In less than five minutes he had been thrown in to a position he'd never seen himself in.

In seconds, standing in front of those cameras, he realized change wasn't _wrong._ Change hurt, boy could it hurt but change was reality. The only constant in life, was that it changed. He would love to put his foot down, tell time that he wasn't like everyone else, that it would have to make an exception for him because he was going to keep racing and it would just have to wait.

But time waits for no one. The hands on a clock never stop, and they don't turn back.

So it was time to wind it up again.

It was just part of the game, not only in Piston Cup, but life.

And Doc had taught him plenty in both subjects.

"-now, Lightning?"

He blinked a few times, mentally returning to the winner's circle. Those blinding flashes and spotlights faded to the background as he looked back toward Kori and smiled.

"I think there's going to be some changes coming for Team #95. Nothing official yet, right now we're just happy with today's win."

"Do you think Rust-eze will finally be making the switch to the Next Gen vehicles?"

"You know, Kori, I'm really not sure. There's been a lot going on behind the curtain and I'm even still trying to get a handle on all of it. There are a lot of talks and decisions to be made in the next few weeks."

Realizing her time was short, Kori tied it up with another congratulations before turning it back over to Cutlass and Cartrip.

* * *

"I don't get it."

"Here I thought you'd be happy."

"To see McQueen off the track?" Jackson rolled his eyes and shrugged a shoulder flippantly. "Well yeah, of course, but you won. I thought that was the point of this whole week."

They sat together on the wall, staring across at now empty stands, well for the most part. The spotlights were still on as clean up crews made the rounds collecting trash and clearing out the enormous grandstands.

Far cry from Thomasville.

The crews of other teams were busy packing it up behind them, their own included.

"What's with the sudden change of heart?" Jackson asked.

"Could ask you the same thing."

Lightning was met with silence and he waited to see if he'd actually get a response. He finally looked up and took in the kid's profile as Jackson stared out toward the stands.

"You asked me at the beginning of the week what racing meant to me."

He was silent, he didn't need to comment, he remembered.

"I said it was nothing."

"And everything."

"I meant that, but racing is everything, and without it _I'm_ nothing."

That...wasn't what Lightning expected.

"I can't imagine someone making that decision for me." Jackson continued. "I can't imagine giving something everything I had and still be shown the door."

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. _Jackson Storm_ had just practically quoted his own words back to him, from his forward in Driven to Win.

 _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet didn't decide when he was done. He'd given the sport everything he'd possibly had to give and was shown the door instead of any sense of gratitude._

What a weird day...

Jackson cleared his throat, not exactly ready or remotely interested in heart to hearts. Lightning could sense, and respected, that, and left it alone. He did chance a rough pat on the kid's shoulder, and when he didn't receive some kind of death glare he hopped off the wall.

"Well, it's been a fun week of wrong turns and emotional turmoil-"

"Speak for yourself."

"But I have a team to get back to, and I'm sure you do too."

Jackson jumped down from the wall and they parted ways without a word, but Lightning paused and glanced toward where Jackson had stopped near his own trailer and had yelled over.

"Yo, McQueen."

Lightning only raised a brow questioningly as he'd stopped.

"I still haven't gotten those turns down."

* * *

 **AN: :'D**


	50. Cars 3 AU-14

**AN: Every time I hear the song Thunder by Imagine Dragons I burst out laughing because all I ever think of is _thunder always comes after Lightning!_ Of course I hear it like every day...**

* * *

Lightning had rushed through lunch and was grabbing his gear to head back outside. He kissed Sally's cheek quickly as he passed the front desk in the lobby.

"You're going _back_ out there?"

"Yeah, sun's in a good place to get him right in the eyes as he comes out of the far turn."

"That's cruel, Stickers, even for you."

"Train in all conditions, Sal." He winked before pushing the door open and let his sunglasses fall from his brow over his eyes. "Don't wait up for me."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Ooo, love you too."

"I still think the jacket's a little much."

He backtracked in to the lobby when he heard her comment and offered a winning smile. "Don't knock style, Sally. You're just jealous.

She only returned his look warmly and told him he'd lose that prime sun positioning if he didn't leave soon.

He tossed his stuff in to the car and headed for the Butte, pondering the last three months over his short drive and even after he'd parked on the bluff.

If he thought that week before the Florida 500 had been a whirlwind then the following three months had been a hurricane. They'd barely gotten started on unloading the trailer after a long drive home when he was inundated with offers on book deals, daytime talk show appearances, night time talk show appearances, movie pitches, and lists of actors who could possibly portray him if he did decide on a movie deal.

He was partial to Chris Hemsworth but he wasn't even on the list.

He'd seen a lot of those offers before, but not nearly with so much fervor. Not even after the shocking end to his rookie season.

Rust-eze had undergone an enormous overhaul. He barely remembered the conversation with Sterling, approaching him after the press had disappeared and telling him he had no specific answer for him yet. It didn't really matter, because before they'd even parted ways, Tex Dinoco had swooped in like a bird of prey and the last thing Lightning had seen was one of the oil tycoon's arms draped amiably over Sterling's shoulder as they'd walked off toward the Dinoco tents.

The next morning Lightning had received a very lengthy, very straight forward and to the point, email, explaining that Dinoco was now an umbrella company of Rust-eze. This was followed immediately with a phone call from Texas and a conversation that made Lightning feel lighter than he had in years.

A solid, and continuous, open invitation to continue racing should the notion strike him.

"But boy, seein' you up in that box and that kid on the track was sure somethin'."

IGNTR was not immune to money either. The parting between Jackson Storm and his first sponsor was not on bad terms. He was told time and time again that if he ever found himself without a sponsor, to just come back and he could pick up where he'd left off.

So there he was, in a new Rust-eze black and red Next Gen.

Lightning watched silently from where he was parked. The sandy loose dirt of Arizona was a far cry from the elite Rust-eze training center. Hot and dry and choking compared to the air conditioned setting of those stark cold hallways. The kid was still obnoxiously high tech but Lightning realized some of it had its place. He was struck suddenly with a thought and burst out laughing, sitting alone in the car.

He'd thought nothing of the designs the new marketing team had come up with until just then, looking back on his first thoughts concerning Storm at the training center.

Jackson sported the black and red now and owned it like nobody's business.

Lightning couldn't help but be reminded of his internal Kylo Ren remark.

He was still laughing when he opened the door and stepped in to the Arizona heat and only shook his head when asked what was so funny.

Lightning flung the headset around his neck and let the door close behind him as they discussed the next race and what Lightning wanted to work on the rest of the afternoon.

"I wasn't too concerned last week but IGNTR was still on your tail the majority of the race."

"Ramirez? She doesn't bother me."

"Sure, ok, but she took you off your line at least three times."

That was the other interesting development, a trainer from Rust-eze finding themselves as the new driver for #2.0. She was peppy, bubbly, and a ray of sunshine in a male dominated sport. Lightning was intrigued with how she handled herself and Jackson just saw another competitor. It didn't matter that she was wearing his former number.

He waved in the direction of the track. "Alright, let's get going. We're wasting daylight."

"Yeah, sure Mr. Ostentatious."

"You're all just jealous, and you're saying it wrong. It's pronounced _fabulous._

Rust-eze wasn't the only thing to undergo a new look. _The Fabulous Lightning McQueen_ seemed only fitting. The blue, white and yellow always seemed to compliment each other as much as he'd thought the red and yellow did. He couldn't be a cool mentor without looking the part.

He waited until Storm was in the Next Gen. It was probably the only one racing currently that had dirt coating the sides. In a few days they'd take it on a simulator, they still had to keep up with everyone else.

He watched and pulled on the headphones with the inscribed _Hudson_ on the side before returning the aviators over his eyes.

Just because Jackson was dealing with a glaring sun didn't mean he was going to.

That wasn't his job anymore.

"While we're still young, Storm..."

He leaned back against the car with his arms crossed and only grinned when Jackson whined in to the headset.

Yeah, he liked how this had all turned out.

* * *

 **AN2: Now we are done! There may be some installments later down the road and I'm actually really surprised with how long this ended up being! I'm horrible with multichapter so this is like...literally the longest 'finished' piece I've ever done!**

 **Cars 3 is soooo close! :D**


	51. Cars 3 AU One Year Later

**AN: Finally after so much waiting I got to watch Cars 3 again. Totally teared up at all the scenes that hit me the first time. So good. :'D**

 **To celebrate finally getting a chance to see it again, I thought I might take some requests! I was going to limit it to first couple of people but that's not really fair. This will also be on AO3 so it could take a while depending on how many I get. There are some things I don't write, so send me a PM if you have questions! It might take me a while to do a request justice but I thought it would be fun to do!**

* * *

"Hello Mr. McQueen! Hello Jackson!"

Lightning loved watching the interactions between Ramirez and Storm. The girl was just an absolute ray of sunshine as opposed to Storm's rain clouds.

That was a little harsh, Jackson had certainly turned a corner but Lightning couldn't help but notice him slip back in to old habits now and then. He personally had likely done the same thing even after becoming a resident of Radiator Springs. It wasn't a switch to be flipped or a part that could be replaced under the hood that would change a vehicle's performance in seconds, it was years of habit that needed reprogramming.

"Hello, Miss Ramirez."

"Oh, please, sir, call me Cruz."

"Then you need to call me Lightning." He looked toward Jackson from his reclined spot in the pit box expectantly.

"Hello, Cruz."

"Umm, it's Miss Ramirez to you."

She cut Jackson off just as he looked ready to jump in to some kind of haughty tantrum. "Kidding, I'm kidding! Wow, you are named pretty accurately aren't you."

"Wh-"

"Jackson _Storm._ You always have this gloomy, testy, storm cloud around you."

No one ever really spoke to him like that, not even McQueen, who he sent an exasperated and somewhat helpless look toward, silently requesting either an explanation or some assistance.

Lightning wasn't sure what he wanted so he remained silent. It was too entertaining to intervene anyway.

"Alright, Miss Sunshine. You're Jackson's sparring partner for today."

Somehow he'd ended up with both of them, not that IGNTR had left Cruz high and dry for the afternoon but she'd stepped out to the track on her own time. When Lightning realized they weren't alone, it just made sense to turn it in to a practice of sorts.

He only intended for this to last an hour or so anyway, it was a hot one and he'd never make Jackson do anything he wasn't willing to do himself.

For too long anyway.

Old habits die hard and all that.

They really only could spend an hour out there anyway. There were too many things on the docket they needed to accomplish in the next two days, interviews, promotional appearances, a meet and greet that had been _someone's_ brilliant plan (thank you Mater), he needed to make a call to discuss this season with Tex, luncheons, opening ceremonies to a new track and last but not least, qualifying for Sunday's race.

At least it was Thursday right? He didn't remember it being this difficult to keep track of everything. Then again he hadn't exactly been the one keeping track, he was the one that had been shuffled around to where he needed to be. Somehow always on time.

It was tougher than he thought.

He'd never been one to wear a watch, but Sally had gotten him one for Christmas, due to the very fact that his first season as the Dinoco crew chief had been so hectic. He hadn't been very good at keeping on top of all the engagements they were expected to appear at. Lightning had drawn the line at using a personal planner, but that didn't mean the calendar on his phone wasn't brightly color coded. Times in blue were track time, red was anything to do with the press, light blue was Dinoco and green was...he couldn't remember what green was but it was used for something...

Not much was accomplished in that hour either. There were a number of things he'd wanted to bring up but a quick glance at the watch told him they'd already burned fifty minutes and it would take at least twenty to pack it up, and that's if they hurried.

Late already and their hour wasn't finished...

* * *

Cruz redid her ponytail as she stood out of the way, speaking around the hair tie. "You'll be at the banquet tomorrow night?"

"What banquet?" Jackson asked.

Lightning only groaned. _That's_ what the green had been...

"Tomorrow night, to kick off the next season."

"Yeah of course." Lightning replied even as Jackson glared at him. "You remember I told you about that, Jackson."

"Yeah, uh-huh."

* * *

At least he'd gotten the time right.

"You're lucky I'm adaptable."

"Oh, really. You?" Lightning responded incredulously. "Mr. _I'm going to complain about this all day long between interviews, appearances and picture signings_?"

"Exactly."

"You don't think that's a little over dramatic?"

"Really, McDramaQueen?"

He never would have expected to _banter_ with Jackson Storm, even after a year working together. "Have some respect for your crew chief there."

"You're right, I should probably be addressing you as grandpa anyway."

"It's Mr. Grandpa, thank you, and just remember who's got those Piston Cups."

Jackson stared at him in silence, he had one too, McQueen wasn't the only Cup holder present.

"Look, as lovely as this evening is, I'm kind of meeting someone. Why don't you go play with the other kids." Lightning smirked, gesturing toward the other racers before joining Sally at the table she'd grabbed for them.

Jackson had only rolled his eyes, and before he knew what was happening, Ramirez was blocking his path.

"Stormcloud, you made it!"

The yellow was startling, to say the least, but fit somehow, more so than the black and blue IGNTR still used.

"Sunshine, it's-"

"You know, I'm sure you're using that name in a different sense than Mr. McQueen-"

"You mean Lightning."

"-but I really like it, so I'm going to let it slide."

How could someone be so bubbly _all_ the time?

"I've never been to one of these, so I'm not really sure what to do-"

"Eat the food, smile for cameras, answer questions..."

"-but it's all just so exciting! I never thought something like this would ever happen."

Jackson blinked a few times. She was a whirlwind and even with his speed it took a moment for him to catch up. The moment she'd stepped in to Piston Cup things had changed. Even aside from his sudden switch in sponsor and gaining Lightning McQueen as his crew chief. She brought something with her that stopped the other racers from being so cold toward one another, or maybe it was just him that had eased up on the others. He still didn't exactly have a select group of friends but the comments concerning his ego had died down somewhat. Cruz brought a lightheartedness to the track that made it less cutthroat, or maybe that was just him also, since McQueen was no longer on the track.

Jackson still felt off balance at times, this was definitely not what he'd expected last spring. He'd never in a million years anticipated being sent on the strangest wild goose chase with Lightning McQueen, only to then offer to drive for him and ultimately gaining him as his crew chief. It was stranger than fiction and sometimes he wondered where reality had gone.

Radiator Springs was an interesting place, though.

So were its residents.

So was this girl standing in front of him oooing and awwing over everything around them, even down to the Piston logo topiary near the main doors. Maybe he should take a closer look at all of it, too.

It seemed to make everyone else pretty happy.


	52. Arizona Heat

**AN: Thank you _SO_ much to everyone who has followed, reviewed and kept up with this ridiculous amount of oneshots! Back in June I was just struck with so many ideas and thoughts after seeing Cars 3 in theaters that I just got straight to work. I wasn't expecting this to take off the way it has! Thanks to Funkywatermelon for pointing out that last chapter reached the _Fabulous 51_ count! I'd noticed it but thought it was just me! They might be oneshots but I've never written that much before.**

 **This is for the request from _Anon_ , who requested something involving Sarge. I've never written Sarge before other than a few mentions here or there, which is strange really because I'm a major history buff. This could be more than one part but we're starting with this for now.**

* * *

While others would sometimes complain about the sizzling heat, especially on the days that were pushing the thermometers, the days even Red was stringent with the amount of water he used on his flowers, Sarge would sit in the shade under the short awning of the surplus hut in his red and white lawn chair with fly swatter in hand and a cold glass of _whatever he felt the day called for_ beside him and watch whatever activity there was to be had.

Fillmore had the best intentions at heart and had warned him about the heat. _We're only looking out for you, man. No one wants to see you come down with heat stroke. Doc says it's not good to be out too long._ He'd then been handed a stack of printed medical reports and for Fillmore to use that much paper without complaint really meant something. Granted, he'd probably requested them from Doc, but still.

Doc had only ever mentioned it once _take a little time inside_ but had left it alone after that. They had an understanding of each other that the Sgt. never thought much of, but it was there.

First Sgt. Jonathan Grant (who had never done the genealogy but was positive he was somehow descended from the great _Ulysses S. Grant_ ) would take the Arizona heat any day, because it wasn't Bastogne.

Bastogne was blinding white and numbingly cold, where fires were rarely permitted unless you were so far back off the line so as not to be seen by those _krauts_ across the fields. Bastogne was where it was suggested to _just go back a few hours, you know, get something hot, sleep a few hours._

 _Get your head on straight._

Because being under siege, nearly surrounded by Germans, with no proper winter attire aside from a thin wool coat had possibly been the lowest point of his life. It had been his responsibility to keep morale up while men were being sent back with cases of trench foot because they'd lost their shoes in a surprise shelling that had forced them all out of their foxholes. No one was going to take the time to make sure their Corcorans were meeting inspection standards when the trees and ground were exploding around them. No one cared if they had their shoes on while the very earth was upheaved and fell again like a horrible mockery of rain. Dirt, snow, wood and bits of tree limbs all falling like a heavy mist.

Mist that choked you and left your eyes burning.

Bastogne was blinding white and numbingly cold, where cries of _medic!_ echoed after nearly every bit of popcorn fire and certainly after a good shelling. Where their own men grew so tired that mistakes were made, and _medic!_ was even heard due to stupid mistakes, friendly fire, tripping into a foxhole, in one instance it was even heard because a man from their platoon had accidentally discharged his weapon and shot himself in the leg.

Their medic, their own Doc, had sent the man back to the hospital with instructions for him to stay off the line until deemed ready to return. They couldn't afford mistakes like that.

Their Doc had made the rounds, and eventually coming to Jon, gave him the opportunity to _get off the line, spend some time indoors, get a hot meal._

That eight hours had been worse than if he had never gone at all. What right had he had to be able to unthaw frozen limbs while the other guys spent the evening piling cover over their foxholes, sharing Lucky Strikes and hoping the evening remained quiet. Luckily it had remained quiet, he would have never forgiven himself if something had happened while he was safe back at command.

It had helped tremendously, though. Less jumpy, less ready to strike out at whatever sound came through the trees in the dark winter woods, he'd actually been able to sleep the first few nights back on line, rather than just sit there with his eyes closed while Cpl. Donovan took watch.

Bastogne was white marked with red, white snow in the light and paralyzing in the dark. Arizona was dizzying heat, tans, reds, browns, windswept canyons instead of blank white snow laden trees and open meadows. In the daylight it was sizzling heat, sand and scrub brush, at night it was flashing neon and newly paved main roads. Arizona was the radio on the other side of the fence playing The Grateful Dead, of _good mornings_ and _turn that horrible music off_ instead of code words _flash_ and _thunder_.

Arizona was buildings (some empty and dilapidated) in neat rows, clean sidewalks and residents that were safe to come and go as they pleased. It was manicured lawns, for the buildings that had lawns, and not so manicured lawns in front of storefront/houses labeled _organic_.

There'd been a time when he couldn't stand the sight of that lawn, overgrown, untended to and _condemnable_.

While he certainly would never allow the area around the flag he'd fought for to look like that, it had eventually become something he tolerated. Until one day, sitting in his lawn chair he'd looked across and spied something vining through the fence. With an irritated huff, he'd jumped up from his chair and stalked across the yard, ready to yank the vine from where it twisted around the white picket. Upon reaching the offending plant, though, he'd paused and regarded it in silence.

Three budding Morning Glories were just beginning to open in the morning sun, delicate and vibrant trumpet flowers unfurling as Arizona's warmth spread through the town.

Red, white and blue.

Bastogne was desolate, lifeless, and frigid.

Arizona was vibrant, abundant, and hot.

Before the end of that summer, the picket fence was covered in Morning Glories.


	53. Heartbreak

**AN: Ooooh man...this is a rough one. This one is at least two parts.**

 **Request from White_Ithiliel on AO3, Lightning deals with losing Doc. This one is tough to even write so if it's a chapter you want to skip that's prefectly alright.**

* * *

He'd never dealt with death before, it was something he had just never thought of, surprising when his career revolved around driving a vehicle at incredibly high and dangerous speeds. So because he'd never dealt with death and had never given the topic much thought, he'd therefor never given the _causes_ of death much thought either.

Of course it wasn't like he didn't know it happened. No one lived forever and to think otherwise was both naive and idiotic, but the closest it had ever reached him had been headlines in the tabloids. Other celebrities. So and so passed at 81 due to complications of surgery, car accidents, plane accidents, illness, he understood that, but somehow when he was forced to face it for the first time he just couldn't get a grasp on it, or when he thought he did he'd suddenly be left juggling the notion awkwardly until he was mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Why did his first experience with loss have to be Doc.

He supposed he should be thankful that it wasn't so sudden. Well it had been sudden, but not _blink of an eye_ sudden. He should be thankful it wasn't that drunk driver that jumped the curb in front of the hotel down in Concord last fall, who'd hit two people before careening in to a street light only ten feet from where they'd been standing in an attempt to get some air after a long day of press conferences and signing autographs. Lightning had barely realized what was happening when he felt a rough hand yank him backwards, heard tires squealing, people screaming, and in .001 seconds witnessed Doc shift from crew chief to medical professional. He remembered standing awkwardly near one of the pedestrians, holding the phone in a shaky hand and speaking to a 911 dispatcher as he parroted whatever Doc told him. He'd had no idea what half of it meant but it had helped the responders who arrived on scene.

In that moment he'd actually forgotten Doc was ill.

He'd forgotten it rather frequently in the course of those seventeen months.

Had it really only been seventeen months?

Lightning would get so caught up in their usual routine that for days or weeks at a time he would forget there was anything wrong. Or maybe he'd been forcing himself to forget, because there were times when that knowledge would crash through the wall he'd worked so hard to put in place. With blinding force, that fear and anticipation of the worst would jump that barrier and slam in to those weak defenses, scrape across his senses like metal on pavement, send chills down his spine and leave deep grooves and gouges, raw and open and bleeding. It had and still left him with an unexplainable sense of detachment from the rest of the world. How could they keep going when they all knew nothing was ever going to be the same. How do you live day to day knowing that the hands on the clock were slowing down. How could you just wait for them to stop.

In those days when he could forget, though, those blissfully ignorant afternoons at the Butte, he would forget the large brown envelope he'd found on the desk and took the liberty to open. It had looked official enough to pertain to the upcoming season, and everything sent to Doc was always addressed Jesse A. Hudson M.D.

Except it had nothing to do with Piston Cup.

The forms he'd glanced at before shoving them back in to the folder had been filled with terms he didn't understand, didn't _want_ to understand, but he'd spent enough time hanging around in the clinic in the off seasons to recognize some of it. He could only sit around so long before he'd pull those text books off the shelves in boredom. One of his favorite pass times had been flipping to random pages, finding the most ridiculous and bizarre medical facts and try to stump Doc, which of course never worked. In doing so, it was hard not to pick up a few things here or there…

He'd stomped through to the garage, intent on throwing a tantrum that would put his rookie year to shame but when he finally did find his mentor, his crew chief, _his father_ , he'd only thrown the envelope on the old desk and glared at him with tear filled eyes.

Doc, for his part, had only regarded the offending parcel in silence from where he stood at the work bench.

"You weren't going to tell me, were you? You weren't going to tell anyone."

Doc had allowed him to rant and rave and vent his frustration over being kept in the dark and Lightning couldn't tell in that moment whether he was angry at Doc's silence or that expression of calm that had refused to break in the face of his verbal assault.

One of his most vivid memories of the whole ordeal was how much his fingers hurt when he'd held on to the back of Doc's shirt, how hot his face felt and the painful sting in his eyes when the tears had finally spilled over, of how there didn't seem to be anything _wrong_ , there was no sign of frailness or illness when Doc had finally cut off his tirade with a crushing embrace and a muttered _I'm sorry, Kiddo_.

It had all started after the race in New York. Wet and cold and raining for the majority of the weekend, minus the race somehow, just about everyone had come down with some form of bronchitis or the flu. With Radiator Springs back on the map, the population had been steadily growing and so had the amount of patients at the clinic. Lightning remembered being wowed with some of the new equipment and despite his own heavy chest cold, he'd asked a thousand questions about the mobile x-ray machine.

"Yeah, it's great." Doc hadn't exactly sounded thrilled, but it might have been because while he was being granted the latest and greatest equipment, he still didn't have the technicians to _use_ the equipment, at least in the case where he'd needed it for himself.

"You could always walk me through it." Lightning had provided. "It can't be that hard." The very idea that an x-ray machine could send images to a tablet wasn't exactly science fiction to him. It was more the fact that Doc could use a tablet that was the strange part.

"This thing costs more than you make in a year. Don't even look at it."

"Why do we need x-rays?"

"You don't. You have a cold."

"Then who needs it?"

"It's illegal to share that kind of information."

Through process of elimination, Lightning had figured out it was Sarge, who had actually come down with pneumonia.

Because the clinic had no technicians, Doc had been forced to travel for his own diagnosis, which Lightning had just looked at as a field trip, complaining both ways that if Doc had just allowed him to use the mobile machine they would have saved an entire day's worth of driving. He'd been a little surprised when Doc mentioned going back a month or so later, he hadn't been nearly as bad off as some of them but only shrugged when Lightning questioned him and offered a vague explanation that they only wanted a follow up.

It was more than a follow up.

What little Lightning had gathered from the forms he'd mistakenly opened, told him that something far more serious had been discovered through the course of the illness that had swept it's way through the pit crew.

It wasn't pneumonia or bronchitis, he hadn't even been able to bring himself to say it, let alone think it. It was a zodiac sign you looked up in the paper to read your horoscope, it was a constellation, the Latin word for crab. It was harmless when considered in that context...

But in those moments he _couldn't_ just forget, when he was forced to face the facts in those lonely hours at night, when the shadows crept in and his defenses were at their weakest, he'd sway dangerously between fear and anger. Fear of the unknown, fear of knowing that eventually there'd come a time when he'd look up at that pit box and Doc wouldn't be there.

He wasn't real sure on how the grieving process worked and he wasn't desperate enough to google it yet, but he did know that he'd then get angry, because his crew chief (father) was such a _walking contradiction_ that Lightning sometimes couldn't even come close to understanding his logic. How could someone finally open up and tell such fond stories of people they'd abandoned _for fifty years_ but then make no attempt to return to old stomping grounds. How could a Medical Doctor completely ignore their own failing health but badger him over his own.

How could Doc refuse treatment.

That's what had hurt him the most, when his ranting and crying and confusion had finally mellowed and he'd gotten himself under control (days later) he'd asked in a conversational tone when treatments would start, because he'd planned to be part of it all.

"Season starts in two months, there's no time for that."

Doc had replied in a tone that suggested the conversation was over and of course Lightning had other thoughts on the matter. He'd put up a fight at times in the past, usually coming across more as banter with a suggestive edge behind it but this had turned in to a full blown argument, two hard headed individuals facing off and colliding head on, the way only extremely egotistical Piston Cup Champions could.

Doc had refused to back down, in the same way he refused to back down on anything. "I've _seen_ what that does to a person, Hot Rod, and I am not spending whatever time left putting myself through that."

That had been the end of it, and Lightning never brought it up again.

Web MD was not his friend, and if Doc ever noticed any of his text books missing at any given time he never said anything.

It was months after that argument that he would forget. When the season started they had fallen in to the usual routine and everything seemed to have returned to normal. Or maybe it was just a new normal. It would only creep up on Lightning at random, in the middle of a conversation with the guys or after getting settled in to whatever hotel room he was put up in. Most often it was in those moments where he was able to spend too much time in his own head.

He'd gotten in to the habit of checking his phone, even more frequently than he used to. He'd started sending text messages more often, even if Doc was only in the room across the hall. He could almost feel the initial irritation seeping through the phone the first half of that year, and he was sure those replies that didn't come back until 4:00 AM and caused him to dig around for his phone blearily were more out of spite than anything else.

But then, after about six months, it had almost become an unspoken agreement between them. Instead of his constant harping and questioning on his crew chief's well being, he'd simply send a text, it was Lightning's way of checking in without _checking in._

(6:42 AM)  
Press conference at 8?

Generally meant _Ok?_

Doc (6:45 AM)  
7:30 Don't be late.

Always meant _Doing fine, Kiddo._

It had become the new normal and while he hadn't been sure how long that normal would last, he'd made sure to make the best of it.


	54. Heartbreak 2

**AN: Long time no see.** **I rejoined the world of tumblr recently if you're interested check that out lol. The username is the same.**

 **This was hard...**

* * *

So learning the stages of grief had been no help at all. He'd finally caved and done an online search. It felt like defeat. It felt like he was just writing Doc off.

He'd really just been facing reality.

It only left him more confused, though, and heartsick.

Was he supposed to follow those stages? Was it like a map? Because he was all over the board and at any given time was feeling four of those five stages at once.

He'd told himself repeatedly that he'd never reach acceptance. There was no way, and for anyone to expect him to just accept losing his mentor, they had another thing coming.

It was that first race Doc had ever missed that brought that lingering fear to the forefront. What had been waiting calmly in the background, creeping and twisting slowly had suddenly tightened in a vice like grip, causing his stomach to do somersaults and his heart to race violently in his chest.

"I'll still be able to see everything."

"But you won't be there."

"I'll still see it."

Doc's expression was cool, and realizing what Lightning was thinking caused him to clarify with a deadpan expression as he'd gestured with the remote in his hand. "On the television?"

Lightning had stared at him briefly, as if he'd just realized himself he'd been thinking of some metaphorical sense of the phrase _I'll still see it._

The clarification of television didn't ease his nerves that much. Not when Doc had been sitting up in a hospital bed.

"But what about...you know- all this..." He'd gestured vaguely, still unable to verbally address any of it.

"This is protocol." Doc huffed and yanked the oxygen tube from around his ears so that it fell on to the bed.

Lightning was petrified something would happen while he wasn't there. There hadn't been any severe changes and Doc had explained that it was routine. Lightning had been fairly sure they were going above and beyond routine _anything_ but was also willing to live in that state of ignorance. As long as Doc said it was ok...

And it must have been, because they'd gone right back to the usual day to day in the months that followed.

* * *

It had been unseasonably warm for the end of October and unbearably humid. Overcast and dark for a midday race, the air had been thick and the threat of thunderstorms had delayed the start time. Lightning had eventually removed his helmet and debated getting out of the car. The only reason he'd remained in the driver's seat was Doc kneeling at the window as they'd discussed the possibility of a postponement and what that could change in their scheduling over the next week. He'd listened to everything his crew chief had to say but felt like he wasn't _really_ listening. Even as he responded or laughed over some quip, he was preoccupied with the idea that he may never get the chance to talk like this again. How many more times would he sit in the driver's seat of his stock car while Doc leaned an arm against the frame, kneeling so they weren't quite eye to eye but close enough that there were no outside intrusions to the conversation. How many more times would he have to stop midsentence because something would come through the headset and cause Doc to pause and turn his attention away from whatever they may have been talking over.

Piston Cup had decided to continue with the race and he'd watched the back of that navy blue jacket carefully before fixing the webbing of the window.

The race itself had been uneventful, aside from a few reminders to get his head out of the clouds and pay attention to what was in front of him. That had become a consistent remark over the last year though as well.

It was his wandering thoughts that had kept him in third place on the last lap, but that meant they could pack it up and get out of there sooner. He wasn't interested with sitting in the winner's circle or having long talks in front of the camera at the moment. He'd climbed out of the car as quickly as possible and strode purposefully to where Doc was returning headsets to the charging stations. He never usually stayed in the pit box long after a race but it had caused Lightning to panic to look up and see the #95 box empty as he'd come down pit row.

"What's wrong?"

Doc had only glanced at him sidelong, winding a mic cord around the corresponding battery pack. "Nothing's wrong."

Lightning had looked about the space to make sure no one was within earshot and was cut off before getting a chance to form a rebuttal.

Doc had made sure everything was in its place, pressing the electronics securely in to the memory foam before closing the case. "Just the past come back to haunt me, Kiddo. No big deal."

He hadn't been sure what that meant, but for the rest of the afternoon he'd been on edge. All he'd wanted to do was get home, thankful that they had a bye week.

* * *

They'd only been home two days when he found himself in Flagstaff and unable to stomach anything.

"I've always figured they secretly poisoned the jello anyway."

Lightning had forced back a choked laugh, because how ridiculous a statement was that when they'd been faced with the situation they'd been in. He only shook his head and rapidly blinked away tears.

"Nothing on this earth is naturally that color green."

He didn't care about the stupid _jello._ "How-...how can you-?" He gestured helplessly, unable to speak.

Doc had only shifted to get more comfortable and Lightning's gaze caught on the multitude of IV lines, the blood pressure cuff, whatever those things were that could read oxygen levels and the like. Doc wasn't supposed to be the one on the patient's end of all this...

He'd answered even while readjusting the cuff on his arm. Of course he had to correct their work.

"When you've lived as long as I have, seen the things that I have..." He paused long enough to check his work, forming a fist before flexing his hand again. "Lost as many people as I have-" He looked back toward Lightning finally and he was struck with just how _tired_ Doc looked. How much had he been pushing himself lately? "There comes a time when you're just ready."

"Well I'm not." Had been his immediate response.

"Unfortunately we don't decide that."

They'd had the same conversation in countless different ways over the last year and a half and while sometimes they left him feeling better, this was certainly not one of those times.

He caught himself looking at his phone, only because he was supposed to be updating everyone. It only put him more on edge that all of Radiator Springs had considered it urgent enough to come along, blocking off nearly an entire floor of the closest hotel. Doc didn't think it was necessary but he hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming with information lately either, no one had been and it was driving Lightning mad.

* * *

The longer they stayed, the worse Lightning's anxiety grew. He'd only leave long enough to get a shower at the hotel, he hadn't eaten, he slept in the ridiculously small and grotesquely patterned chair in the hospital room and spent the rest of his time flipping through channels on the flat screen in the corner.

They hadn't released anything to the press, he'd hate to see the media storm it would kick up and wasn't interested in speaking to anyone outside the family.

It was just a scare anyway...there was no need to make it known.

It was amusing, he had to admit, to see everyone squeeze in to that room. Filling every corner, lining the walls and blocking the doorway. It was easy to tell where Mater had been that day, as a trail of dirt would be streaked across the floor.

What he'd never forget though, were the evenings. The fear of _why_ they were allowing him to stay would weaken, RSN would be playing some documentary, news updates, or running through the driver's statistics of that year and they'd just _talk. Real_ coffee in the paper cups the hospital provided, he'd sit reclined in that stupidly small chair with his feet propped on the side of the bed and they'd talk about whatever came to mind. If he closed his eyes and ignored the harsh florescent lights, he could almost believe they were back in Radiator Springs, sitting in Doc's kitchen or the garage. Doc would split his attention between Lightning and writing. Lightning had always debated over looking to see what had been written during their conversations but fear always won out. He didn't want to know.

Before he knew it, they'd been there a week.

He flipped through the channels mindlessly. At seven in the morning there wasn't much to choose from and eventually he set the remote aside without paying attention to what was running. He looked then toward Doc, who looked...surprisingly comfortable. He wasn't used to seeing his crew chief still, he was always doing _something,_ reorganizing the garage for the nine-millionth time, filing paperwork for the season, going through the clinic's inventory, but never _still._

Lightning didn't think he could stand to see him get any worse. If this was it then...well...

He looked up at the monitors and watched the little green line that measured the heartbeat, that weird squiggle you saw on bumper stickers that were slapped on the back of a nurse's car, the cliche image in all the hospital dramas on tv. It was a universal symbol, Lightning didn't have to be a genius to recognize that particular line. Steady and seemingly strong at the moment, he couldn't handle the thought of it going flat.

His eyes welled with tears suddenly and a rush of air escaped him. He took a shuddering breath before swallowing heavily and looking toward the only person he'd ever considered as a father.

"Uh-..." He glanced down and hummed lowly in the back of his throat, like it was some kind of reset button that could help him start over.

"Doc-" Lightning croaked out quietly, not intent on waking him but needing to speak. He wouldn't be able to do this later. "I uh-...I'm-"

He took another harsh breath and forced himself to continue. "I'm not ready-...but...if you- if you are then I'll-" Lightning looked toward the window quickly, steeling himself to say what he couldn't believe he was about to.

"I'll be ok...we'll all be ok-"

How could he say they'd be ok, that _he'd_ be ok when he broke down staring out the window.

That wasn't acceptance. It wasn't.

Because he wouldn't. Ever.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew it was late afternoon and the room was filled. The television had been shut off and there was animated chatter and laughter throughout the room. Sally had perched herself awkwardly on the back of the chair he'd slept in and grinned down at him tiredly as she played with his hair.

"You ok...?"

"No..." He murmured in response.

Her grin became comforting. "Yeah...me either..."

* * *

"You should get a real night's sleep."

"What is a _real_ night's sleep anyway?"

"The kind that doesn't have you passed out-"

"Doc-"

"-in that chair. You do have a race this week."

"You really think I care about a race right now."

Doc had only shrugged one shoulder noncommitally. "An actual bed would do you good. I _am_ still your doctor."

He did actually crack a grin at that and finally stood slowly, stretching his arms as far as he could reach and feeling his back crack in several places.

"Who am I to argue with _the_ Doc Hudson?"

He almost felt a sense of normalcy at the eye roll his comment received, and in an uncharacteristic fashion, he leaned over and carefully hugged his crew chief. It wasn't awkward, and when Doc returned the gesture it felt like they'd been family for decades, not merely a few years.

"Get some rest."

"Bye, Doc. I'll see you tomorrow."

Lightning was nearly out the door when Doc's voice stopped him. "It's never goodbye, Kiddo. Just see you around."

* * *

He'd promptly collapsed upon reaching the hotel room, and it was the sound of his phone going off that woke him at three in the morning. Lightning stared at it blearily, feeling like he was looking in to the sun for as bright as the screen was. When his eyes finally adjusted his brows drew together.

An email? That was probably spam, he'd worry about it later. It was the four missed calls that he was interested in. All from the same number, which of course he didn't recognize. When his phone began to ring again, he declined and like any reasonable adult, Googled the number instead.

It was the hospital.

No.

No no no no no _no no. **No**._

He'd shot off the bed, having never changed and in his panic woke Sally. When the phone began to ring again he held it out in a trembling hand, breathing quickly as his vision blurred. "I can't, Sal-...I ca-..."

She'd taken the phone from him and ushered him out the door even as she answered.

He wasn't sure how they managed to get everyone there but that didn't really matter. Funny the details that stick out in a moment of crisis, he remembered the hallway of the hotel and how unbearably long it was. How dark it was. The smell of the newly shampooed floors in the lobby as they'd rushed out the main doors. The crushing weight and fear in his chest that only grew as they'd practically tripped over each other and the look on the nurse's face when she'd looked up from the desk at the nurses' station. She'd gotten to know Lightning McQueen fairly well that week and a half.

She'd only shook her head slightly, her voice low in the stillness of the hallway. "I'm so sorry, Mr. McQueen."

* * *

 **One Week Later**

He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand that there was a half a pot of coffee still on the counter, or that there was food in the fridge. A newspaper glared up at him from the table and upon further inspection he realized there were points in an article surrounding Piston Cup that had been circled hastily. He wandered through the apartment in a daze and couldn't help but feel like he was intruding. He'd been there millions of times, had stayed there for months, but everywhere he looked it felt as if every belonging and personal effect of Doc's were watching him in disappointment, that the very walls were closing in and the deafening silence in his home chanted _you're not Doc. Where's Doc_? Dust had already begun to collect and settle through the place, which was decidedly _not_ Doc. Unless it was the dirt floor of the garage, everything was well maintained and clean...

It tore the air from his lungs when he opened the door to the garage.

The Hornet looked no different than it ever had, but without the garage doors swung open wide and only the single bare bulb over the work desk to light the space, it was the most depressing thing Lightning had ever seen. A fine layer of dust had settled on the '50s race car and he felt a knot form in his throat as he considered the way the navy blue looked dull after only a few weeks. He stood on the step and nearly jumped out of his skin when the door shut with a quiet click behind him.

If the apartment and clinic had felt uncomfortable, the garage was torture.

It was as if the Hornet _knew_ , but that was a ridiculous thought. He needed to stop with this constant projecting. He did pause briefly and lower his brows when the driver's side door didn't open immediately, though.

"Get a grip, McQueen..." He muttered lowly to himself with a sigh as he slid in to the seat and let the notebooks slide across to the passenger seat. His brows lowered at the box that was moved in the process, but that could wait a moment.

Three heavy notebooks had been left for him, no instructions, nothing to explain what they were for. One smaller one buried beneath the others had caught his attention. It looked like one of those cheap ones picked up at Wal-Mart, barely any larger than a three by five index card with some ridiculous illustration on the front, but what interested him though, was that it was a certified Piston Cup product. The cover sported a lightning bolt and #95 across the top and #51 and the Hornet's emblem across the bottom. It was _not_ something he could see Doc buying. He flipped the cover over and inhaled harshly at the sight of Doc's distinctive, sharp, handwriting.

 _Talk to Sally about the cover. She picked it up, not me._

He'd have to read through it later, he couldn't bring himself to at that moment and set it aside with a quiet sigh. What he had gathered, though, was it was filled with different observations and thoughts from the time in the hospital...he'd wondered what Doc had been writing...

His attention fell on the small box and his brows lowered as he reached for it. He paused only momentarily when he saw his name on it.

A smaller box, this one gift wrapped, sat within. He grumbled to himself when there was another inside that.

"Never took you for much of a jokester...at least in this sense..."

He finally held a brown mailing envelope in his hands and turned it over a few times. Needing better light, he opened the door before tearing the end of the envelope, when the contents wouldn't release from the parcel, he turned it over and attempted to shake them out in to his hand. A small set of keys fell in to his palm and a soft thunk of something falling in to the dirt of the floor caught his attention. Glancing down, a larger set of keys caused him to pause and the familiar looking ring caused his throat to tighten quickly. Carefully grabbing it from the ground, he studied the two well worn keys to the Hornet and turned over the Hudson emblem key ring.

 _Hudson Motor Car Co._

 _Made in Detroit USA_

He shook his head. "Oh, Doc I can't..."

Lightning bit his lip and glanced within the envelope to see a note stuck to the plastic interior. He fished it out carefully.

 _Smaller keys are to a safe deposit box in the hall closet. You know what the other set's for._

A surprised bark of laughter escaped him at that, even as he began to cry. There was no date but the envelope was beaten up...so how had the keys...?

He slid back in to the driver's seat and looked at the ignition, the keys were newer.

Doc had been using copies...

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but his arm was sore when he finally reached over for one of the heavy, leather bound books he'd carried out with him. He took a deep breath and cracked open the cover, unsurprised by the sharp handwriting within. Blue seemed to be Doc's trademark color, and it stood out nicely against the cream colored pages.

 _In the summer of 1950 I was just a kid in Thomasville-_


End file.
